Histoire d'un Amour
by reflecting
Summary: Collection of K/S drabbles. there will be canon, AU, genderbent; a healthy mix. "He was standing next to me," he says, seeing the same confusion in another pair of eyes, "but he seemed really far away. I was trying to close the gap."
1. Legs

**Pairing: **Kirk/Spock

**Ratings: **from K to M, it depends on the drabble/story

**Genres: **AU/AR, romance, sci-fi, drama, humour, family, friendship, hurt/comfort, angst

**Notes: **This is a collection of drabbles/short stories with the main focus on K/S. I will be experimenting with genderbending, using always a girl!Kirk and possibly always a girl!Spock, or a actual genderbending; male-gone-female. It's different from story to story.

**A general warning for the whole story is that English is not my first language, so there will be typos and grammar errors. I apologize. Also, I don't own Star Trek, nor do I make any profit off of this. It's all for fun and creativity.**

* * *

**A/N: **This is a short drabble, a moment in the relationship of always a girl!Kirk and Spock :)

Enjoy!

* * *

**Legs**

He ran a finger gently along her calf, following the soft muscles up to twirl her bent knee and elicit the predicted twitch of sensitive nerve endings responding to his stimuli, with the giggle being a slightly belated reaction.

"Your legs are smoother than others who practice the ritual of shaving," he noted, tracing his finger up her thighs and sliding it along her hipbone; gently brushing past her modest patch of fur still slightly damp from their earlier activities. From his place by her side, his head propped up on an elbow alongside her taunt stomach; he had the optimal view and touching range. Most pleasing.

She huffed. "And how many have you gone around touching to come to that conclusion?"

There was no real anger in her tone, he noted; marveling for just a moment at how well he could read this human at times. Not always, he admitted; it still eluded him sometimes. But it was to be expected; she was a paradox, illogical then logical and easy then difficult. The only constant was the golden hue of her mind (and heart, if he were to subscribe to the human poetics) and the bright shine of her smile.

"You know the answer to this question, cadet," he responded, sweeping his gaze from her damp sex and up to her perky breasts. Small, they only just fitted in his palms, but they were firm, round and warm and so very sensitive.

"Yeah yeah," she grumbled, squirming under his lazy gaze caressing her nipples. He thought his finger, now joined by two others, at the delicate skin beneath her belly button might be equally responsible. "It's 'cause of the laser treatment. Got tired of shaving every third day and vaxing is too painful. Contrary to popular belief, I'm not a masochist. Though, sometimes, I wonder Spock."

He quirked a brow, not bothering to look up and confirm what he already knew would be a sly smirk on those bruised lips. The tightening of her nipples were more relative to his interests. "Fascinating," he said, "I would have assumed your economy did not allow for such vain indulgences."

"Yeah, they charge way too much!" came her immediate reply, and he could hear her pout, but chanced a glance up to confirm it anyway because it did wonderful things to her expression. "But it's just, like, one treatment and you're done for eternity. So it's worth it, and they know it, those bastards. Anyway, I didn't pay for it; I'm way too good for that. And here I was, thinking you knew me Spock!"

He moved his fingers down to pet through her curls and part her lips, sinking into moist warmth of mixed fluids. A content hum and a slight twitch was the response. "Please, do enlighten me Jamie."

His body so close prevented her right leg from spreading as wide as her left was currently doing; inviting him to continue, please. "Mmm," she sighed, stretching slightly and arching her back, his eyes still adoring her breasts as they were pushed up and almost brushed his nose. "I built my own machine, of course. I lived close to the shipyard in Riverside, so technology, equipment and material were close at hand. Easy-peasy."

He stiffened, glaring up at her in disproval. "That was unwise. It is a medical procedure and you are neither a qualified doctor nor do you possess a degree in Medical Engineering."

She bumped her leg against his and rolled her eyes. "I was thirteen; young and dumb. But it turned out just fine. You weren't complaining minutes ago, were you? Unless you have anything against 'smooth legs'."

"It would perhaps pacify me to know that 'young and dumb' is no longer an issue," he began, eyes narrowing as he removed his fingers from her wet heat to trail moisture along her belly and push gently against the underside of her breast. "However, current statistics show a rather discouraging result."

"Now that's just mean," she pouted, hands coming down to bury themselves into his silky hair and messing it up further. The action moved her breasts together and created a pleasing cleft, and he easily snuck his hand up to cup one of them roughly; thumb moving in eager circles around a pink nipple. "When have I ever done anything to deserve that?"

Teasing now, she didn't wait for his answer but with her grip of his head pulled him up for a deep, lazy kiss. In favor of sampling her unique taste – together with the bitter tang of himself still lingering – he opted to forego the argument, for now.

When they – he didn't know who needed the air, couldn't quite grasp who pushed away and who clung, and didn't really think it mattered anyway – finally broke free it was already forgotten.

* * *

**A/N: **Please review! :D


	2. Breasts

**Pairing: **Kirk/Spock

**Ratings: **from K to M, it depends on the drabble/story

**Genres: **AU/AR, romance, sci-fi, drama, humour, family, friendship, hurt/comfort, angst

**Notes: **This is a collection of drabbles/short stories with the main focus on K/S. I will be experimenting with genderbending, using always a girl!Kirk and possibly always a girl!Spock, or a actual genderbending; male-gone-female. It's different from story to story.

* * *

**A/N: **This is another (very) short drabble, also a moment in the relationship of always a girl!Kirk and Spock. Same Universe :)

Enjoy!

* * *

**Breasts**

"They don't fit the same way in your hands anymore," she pouted, leaning heavily against his warm chest. It was hard against her back; slimmed muscles and dense bones, cushioned only slightly by a black dusting of hair. His large hands stilled their soft caress, slipping underneath to cup her full breasts and adding to her statement as it emphasized their new size.

"It is only logical," he said, voice softer now in the privacy of their quarters. "It is a natural development of your biological changes, my sweet."

She smiled at his endearment, unable to suppress her reaction and unwilling to anyway. It was no doubt his intent. Rolling her eyes, she nudged him none-too-gently in the ribs with her elbow (he was Vulcan, he could take it, the big sissy). "Duh! I'm just saying…I liked them better before."

Humming in a not-reply (he was distracted, and well on his way to distract her too, if his hands kept that up). "Seriously Spock," she began, but gave up with a giggle as his one hand traced down her side to count her ribs and tease her nerves. She was _not_ ticklish, dammit!

"I love you," he said, breathing into her ear now as he pressed himself closer to her back. One hand cupping her breast still, the other now resting gently on her full hip. "You are beautiful."

By now, she shouldn't have a reason to blush. How many times had he not whispered those words? Still her cheeks heated, and she titled her head in silent invitation. His nose found the juncture of her neck and shoulder immediately, nosing gently and breathing her scent lazily.

"You have always been beautiful," he continues, and she almost laughs, but not quite, because her back is sore and her feet ache and he is so warm, and gentle, and the love pouring from his skin, their bond, his words…it washes it all away. Had he been anyone else but Spock, she would've denied this, but she couldn't, because it didn't matter if she needed it, if she allowed herself to soften and mellow into a _woman_. Because it was Spock, and she loved him more than life itself.

"As a young cadet," he placed a kiss on her shoulder, "as a young Captain," and moved his hands away from their resting places to caress her stomach, "as my wife," and she sighed, "as the mother of my child."

"Always beautiful, Jamie."

How could she doubt him?

* * *

**A/N: **Please review! :P


	3. Hello Star, Part 1

**Pairing: **Kirk/Spock

**Ratings: **from K to M, it depends on the drabble/story

**Genres: **AU/AR, romance, sci-fi, drama, humour, family, friendship, hurt/comfort, angst

**Notes: **This is a collection of drabbles/short stories with the main focus on K/S. I will be experimenting with genderbending, using always a girl!Kirk and possibly always a girl!Spock, or a actual genderbending; male-gone-female. It's different from story to story.

* * *

**A/N: **This is the first part in a series, "Hello Star". Could be set in the same Universe as "Legs" and "Breasts", if it suits you :)

Enjoy!

* * *

**Hello Star, part 1**

She's caught somewhere between rolling her eyes and hitting something. She settles for a compromise and does both; hitting his shoulder with a huff.

"Geez, I'm not a fucking delicate flower, Spock," she grumbles, annoyance and amusement warring in her tone but at the look on his face the latter wins out and she smirks.

"I…apologize, Captain," he begins, squirming just the tiniest bit as he hesitates. "I was unaware of this level of proficiency in hand-to-hand combat on your part. Previous observations and experiences have not alluded to the level of skill you seem to possess at this time."

Really, trust this Vulcan to twist 'hey, you're better than I expected' into something like that. Pinned to the floor. By a petite human female.

Really, if she wasn't still a bit annoyed by the way he'd handled her in their first (friendly) sparring match ever she'd laugh. Okay, she still did, but it's that eyebrow, she swears!

"Well, you haven't really caught me at my best during any one of those observations, Spock," she grins, resisting the urge to rub herself against him from her place straddling his hips at the thrilling realization that he hasn't pushed her off yet ever since her grip relented and she leant back to free his arms at the accept of defeat. "I've either been drunk off my scull, or high on vaccines and running on no sleep, whatever the fuck Bones drugged me up with, and yeah, some other physical injuries. Doesn't put me in top condition for fighting a species several times stronger than me, does it?"

He stiffens at her mention of past events; the _Narada_ still fresh on everyone's mind only three months away from the cluster-fuck of that time-travelling mess of a fucking maniac. She feels him underneath her but would've still noted the tightening of his jaw and the steel creeping into his compellingly soft, brown eyes. She doesn't comprehend why, but apparently what is stoic and android to others is a myriad of controlled expressions to her. And possibly Uhura; she hasn't really dared to ask. If she'd had balls she'd be worried about losing them, but as it was, she was sure Uhura could find other ways to inflict pain.

Inhumanly hot fingers brushed her bare thigh briefly, it feels like nothing more but a feather, only it carries the electric charge she's been so used to receiving from Spock whenever they touch, skin to skin or not. It was a cue to move, she knew. Grinning, she rolled off of her First Officer and followed through her motion until she stood up. She watched him rise; smooth and elegant and dignified despite his tousled hair and rumpled clothes.

She bit her lower lip in amusement, trying to suppress a faintly, embarrassingly girly, giggle. Spock was ridiculously hot, alien temperature notwithstanding. It was all she could do not to nip his ear or lick that neck. Which was bad thoughts to have of her First Officer, but she was still getting used to all this Captainly stuff, like not entertaining fantasies of banging her crew, dammit.

"This is true," he agrees with her previous statement, nearly forgotten in her observation of him. "Situations do seem to have been against you, sir. It remains quite logical, then, for us to continue training as it would serve you to achieve further skills in fighting against those of superior strength, until a time when situation will play little part in your success."

"Aww," she cooed, taking a step closer and brushing her hand along his arm. "I didn't know you cared!"

He was tensing up again, she noted with a little bit of guilt. The last month had been filled with causal touches now that they worked in close quarters, and her offer of chess one evening had prompted a tradition of at least thrice weekly meet for a game in their free time. She was, by nature, a tactile person and even more so around those she cared for. By now, Spock was among those, had been quite early, despite their rocky start. She was never one to linger in the past, grudges not a foreign subject but unusual of her character.

Somehow, she suspected Spock had picked this up and something had loosened within the half-Vulcan and the rest—well, it played out quite naturally. Maybe that epic friendship she'd been promised wasn't so far away (though, that other Spock, the old man that made her want to hug him and never let go in some primal protective way, had seemed quite surprised to find she was female).

"I assure you, Captain, your health and safety is of great importance to this ship. It would be remiss of me, as it is my duty as First Officer, to not insure every step is being taken to prevent you from unnecessary harm."

Geez, but he was still a stick in the mud.

"Yeah, yeah; you dutiful Vulcan, you," she sighed, stepping away and turning to make her way across the training mat they'd occupied in the gym. She stretched her arms over her head and arched her back, groaning slightly at the pops of bone and creaking joints. "Well, thanks for the spar anyway! God knows it took _forever_ to make you see it my way, but, here we are." She shot a glance over her shoulder. "Up for some chess after shift, First Officer?"

He had not remained idle where she'd turned from him, but was already catching up with those long strides of his. "Indeed, Captain," he murmured, brows lowering slightly in a way that told her he was displeased or uncomfortable. Perhaps both. "However, I regret I must decline your invitation. I have already made plans for the evening, and it would be impolite of me to cancel."

She shrugged; a bit disappointed now that she didn't have anything but unfinished reports to look forward to, but smiled in reply. "It's okay Spock, some other time then?"

"I would not be averse to such an arrangement," was his quick response, that little quirk of his head that was something between a nod and the curious tilt of a bird. Her smile widened, and the tips of his ears turned green. Well, greener, she mused.

She had always been appealing to others – be them male, female, human or alien – for as long as she could remember. That her First Officer acted Vulcan-flustered around her had escaped her at first, she'd thought it annoyance, but as their seemingly mutual distrust and dislike had dispersed she'd started to clue in on the signs. He was a red-blooded, well, no; green-blooded man, and it was normal. However, he was Vulcan; monogamous and currently in a relationship.

She toned down her smile and subtly moved a slight bit away. He was probably beating himself mentally for being attracted to anyone other than his girlfriend, and she didn't want to make it worse for him. Really, she wasn't that much of a bitch people liked to think.

Though, she'd definitely tap that.

"Well, I'll see you later!" she declared, parting to step into the women's changing room. Catching his eyes, she threw him a friendly wave. "Have fun!"

He opened his mouth to reply, probably to point out that Vulcans did not 'have fun' and most likely to return her good bye but the door was already closing behind her.

She wondered why he'd looked so confused; it wasn't like she'd thrown some obscure idiom at him. Shrugging, she let it go in favor of stripping out of her sweat-soaked clothes; a tight, black t-shirt and worn, loose-fitting red shorts that rode low on her thighs. First a shower, then she'd probably drop by Bones before returning to her cabin for some well-needed catching up with her reports. Fuck but that was hard to adjust to; the sheer amount of paperwork to deal with was overwhelming. But Jamie T. Kirk didn't bow to any challenge, and she'd be damned if she gave any reason for those stuffed old shirts in the Admiralty to doubt their decision in granting her Captaincy.

In a good mood after a fun and full-filling spar, she entered the showers humming. The steam was thick and she allowed herself to relax; a rarity even before all this. For now, though, there was just the water on her back and her hands on her skin and it was bliss.

* * *

**A/N: **Please review! :P


	4. Queen of Hearts

**Pairing: **Kirk/Spock

**Ratings: **from K to M, it depends on the drabble/story

**Genres: **AU/AR, romance, sci-fi, drama, humour, family, friendship, hurt/comfort, angst

**Notes: **This is a collection of drabbles/short stories with the main focus on K/S. I will be experimenting with genderbending, using always a girl!Kirk and possibly always a girl!Spock, or a actual genderbending; male-gone-female. It's different from story to story.

* * *

**A/N: **This is a complete AU. Yeah, like the other haven't been lol. Anyway, short, and just for fun. Like the rest of them. Yeah, um... XD Man, I'm really into always a girl!Kirk, she's sassy and awesome :D

Enjoy!

* * *

**Queen of Hearts**

She was dressed in a too-big leather jacket, black but worn down to fading grey in places. It was stitched with different logos, the most eye-catching a large Ace card, the red heart bright on her left side.

_He thinks it should be green, but it still wouldn't be an accurate representation of the organ._

She had a pair of matching shorts, black leather cracked and damaged, and her stockings were torn and her shoes hugging her ankles and with the sharp heels were patched with black tape.

_The old Andorian by the street corner who was missing an antenna, and reeked of Romulan ale, shivered at the name. He hadn't seen him since he'd pointed him in the right direction. _

A white top could be seen through her baggy jacket, with glimpses of suspenders strung over her breasts.

_He remembered her smell, from when he clutched her to him and bled green. He remembered that she didn't wear a bra._

The red on her lips were bright compared to the smoky black around her eyes, and if perhaps her hair was a bit too messy it didn't matter, because she wore a fedora to hide spiky locks of blonde.

_She'd left with a name for the chase and he'd been running to catch up ever since._

"You count cards."

He doesn't deny it. _He hasn't spoken yet because he's finally here and words seem inadequet._

"You barely glance at them, but you never lose track, do you?"

He doesn't admit it, either. _She's smiling again._

"First time playing poker?"

"Yes." _He can't help it._

There is a gun _(.44 Magnum Colt Anaconda, production 1990-1999, weight 53 oz, length 11⅝ in, barrel length 6 in bbl)_ in her hand and he wonders where it came from. Her long legs are stretched over the desk. _Mahogany, he notes._ There's a piece of gum stuck underneath her left shoe.

"Also your first time underground, isn't it, darling?"

She's shifting in her seat. The light hits her face for the first time as she titles her head. _She's got freckles._

"I have ventured down in cellars and other facilities located beneath ground level before."

Her laugh isn't as cold as he had expected, or as harsh. It's soft, like the curve of her cheek. _She's young._

"I like you. I'm Jamie Kirk, Mr. Tall Dark Stranger."

She's the Queen of Hearts _the Queen of mine_ and she welcomes you to _the Enterprise,_ Mr. Spock _and he can't help but smile._

* * *

**A/N: **Please review! :P


	5. Blue Suede Shoes, Part 1

**Pairing: **Kirk/Spock

**Ratings: **from K to M, it depends on the drabble/story

**Genres: **AU/AR, romance, sci-fi, drama, humour, family, friendship, hurt/comfort, angst

**Notes: **This is a collection of drabbles/short stories with the main focus on K/S. I will be experimenting with genderbending, using always a girl!Kirk and possibly always a girl!Spock, or a actual genderbending; male-gone-female. It's different from story to story.

* * *

**A/N:** Another AU of several parts, this time with both main characters male :) Please excuse the awkwardness of this piece lol. Plots bunnies are evil.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Blue Suede Shoes, part 1**

It was perfectly logical.

A child was expected of him, but he had no desire to sire one with a female and have her carry the child with her for the required time. It was a child who would have no mother, for he had no life mate, and with the option of bypassing a need of any close relation for any amount of time between _his_ child and the ca_rrier_ was not only logical but desirable. His child should not be exposed to something only to lose it.

With that, Spock signed the PADDs for a sperm donation, a request for a desirable sample and finally the contract of a test tube in one of the finest labs in San Francisco.

The human female behind the counter smiled pleasantly as he handed her the signed PADDs, putting them away neatly to be filed. "Thank you, Mr. Spock. You will be sent a collection of potential male donators based off of your requirements at the earliest opportunity."

"I will be able to request further information of any candidates, as well as conduct a more personal inquiry, should I desire to?" He raised a brow at the light giggle stifled behind a manicured hand his statement provoked, once again hindered by human nature as it provided no logical explanation.

"Yes, you've stated a wish to contact the donators personally in your application, so any candidates listed will have to have chosen not to donate anonymously," she assured him, her short lapse of professionalism covered up by her previous well-practiced smile. "Do you have any more questions?"

He paused, mentally checking over the information he had gathered about the subject to see if something was lacking, and settled for a satisfied tilt of his head. "No, I believe I am in possession of all the necessary information. I will take my leave."

"Great!" she nodded. "If something comes up, just leave a comm. and it'll be solved. Good day!"

He returned her parting with a silent gesture before moving towards the exit. It occurred to him he hadn't gotten her name, and wondered if he'd offended another human custom by not asking when it hadn't been offered.

**oOo**

The final list was slightly short. He'd spent the following week eliminating most of the candidates suggested to him, visiting a few to conduct short interviews that left much to be desired. He was in no way illogically fixated on looks, but he did not want a child with wild, untamable hair or an abnormally large nose. Nor was it desirable for the child to have any kind of inherited tendency for dressing in clashing colors.

There were a lot of things that were not desirable, he noted, having come down to one last candidate. He hadn't foreseen such trouble with finding someone suitable, and so, he found himself staring at the human female – whose name he now knew was Carol – through a visual comm. from his quarters. The last one collected hair of different alien species.

_"Seems like you're in luck after all, Mr. Spock!"_ the woman cheered, her eyes fixed on the PADD in her hands. _"We've just received a match this week! Should I send it over directly?"_

"That would be agreeable."

_"Okay, sent and delivered! We'll keep digging around for more, should you need it. Good luck, Mr. Spock!"_

"Thank you." His personal PADD beeped after he closed the transmission, and he reached over to browse through the file.

_Human, _he noted. With…impressive academic records. His brow lifted. Most impressive, especially for a human. The medical records were clean, few visits as a child and only for understandable injuries for a human (a broken bone, allergic reactions). He seemed to have calmed as a young teenager, there were no records at all during a long period, which was admittedly strange for his species. In fact, apart from a few allergies the male seemed healthy. The impressive levels of intelligence were promising as well.

_James Tiberius Kirk, _he read, taking note of his current residence and contact information, putting together a comm. to request a meeting at the soonest opportunity.

**oOo**

He silently hoped that the suggestion of meeting in the park for what would be a rather personal conversation was not a sign of another undesirable quirk, but he resolved to overlook it this time in light of the singular records of the man.

Looking around, he took in his surroundings. A couple were having a traditional human meal called picnic further away on the grass, a young child was regrettably playing with an eager, unleashed dog and a few lone humans could be found making their way down the path he was currently travelling. Blue Suede shoes, Mr. Kirk's latest comm. had read. Although he'd done his research, and seen the human's picture (if he were human he'd call the man handsome, or even stunning), he agreed that it would be easier to make him out among others. However, simply deciding a definite meeting place would have sufficed.

He spotted a bench further down, where a young man was slouched with a steaming mug of liquid in his hands. His short hair was wind-blown, and he was dressed in a thick sweater and scarf to fight off the chill of autumn. A shoulder bag lay by his feet, and…there they were, the blue suede shoes.

**oOo**

"So, do I get a passing grade?" Kirk said, grinning pleasingly (he's expressed a strong dislike of formality, stating they were already on a more personal level than ordinary, given the purpose of their conversation).

Spock titled his head, resisting an illogical urge to roll his eyes. An unfortunate trait inherited from his mother.

"You are a desirable candidate, yes," he agreed, wondering how a smile could be warm. "However, I would prefer to meet again before making my decision."

Kirk nodded. "Yeah, it's a pretty big thing. So what about the weekend? You up to something?"

"I am not," he confessed, curious at the easy interaction with this human. He had never experienced it to such a degree with a stranger before. Clearly, there were more to humans than he'd come to expect.

"Great! Wanna get together for chess? You seemed interested."

"That would be agreeable."

Kirk smiled. "I've a feeling we're gonna get along great."

**oOo**

James T. Kirk donated sperm because he liked the idea of someone sharing his genes _("-Dad died in action shortly after I was born, he was on a mission in space at the time. Mum and my brother died when I was 13, and I've been mostly raised in foster families after that.-")_, and because he was convinced he would never find someone to raise a child with. He hadn't calmed as a teenager, simply stopped going to the hospital, because he'd constructed his own medical equipment and he disliked the atmosphere of a medical building _("—besides, my best friend's a doctor. He's at the Academy with me. A real barrel of sunshine and rainbows and puppies.—")_. He was currently in Starfleet, Command track, and aspired to become a Captain.

Although very human, he was stimulating, and honest. _("—I've done things, and made choices in my life, that haven't been the best. Bones says I have a mutated instinct to survive, and I never give up, and circumstances made that take root in ways that it normally wouldn't. I'm not perfect, no one is, and you shouldn't look for it. Genes might be important, I understand what you're doing, but you'll raise the kid right regardless. It'll be fine, whatever you choose. I've a knack of knowing the character of people, and you seem pretty awesome, Spock.-")_

He was also the first to beat him in chess since his relocation to earth.

_("-Check mate, Mr. Spock!-")_

* * *

**A/N: **Please review! :P


	6. Rollerblades

**Pairing: **Kirk/Spock

**Ratings: **from K to M, it depends on the drabble/story

**Genres: **AU/AR, romance, sci-fi, drama, humour, family, friendship, hurt/comfort, angst

**Notes: **This is a collection of drabbles/short stories with the main focus on K/S. I will be experimenting with genderbending, using always a girl!Kirk and possibly always a girl!Spock, or a actual genderbending; male-gone-female. It's different from story to story.

* * *

**A/N:** I love the idea of teenage K/S friendship and cute crush-like romance :) Here's my first shot at it!

Enjoy!

* * *

**Rollerblades**

"Oh my god, are you okay man?" Large, crystal-blue eyes filled his vision and for a moment it was all he saw, before he blinked and the world came into focus once again. The eyes belonged to a young, male, human face with sharp lines and soft lips; it delayed his reaction further to be so up close to something so desirable. It was the last thought that snapped him back to reality.

He was on his back, the hard ground of the sidewalk cold beneath him. 2.3 minutes ago he had been hit by a strong force coming from around the street corner and knocked to the ground, where he'd been lying shocked for 0.54 minutes before firm hands grabbed his shoulders and stroked his face, feelings of guilt and worry and shock seeping though skin and his compromised mental shields.

"I'm so sorry! Are you _hurt?_ Do you need an ambulance? Can you speak? How many fingers am I holding up?"

He appeared to be a young teenager, perhaps 15 or 16 years of age. Approximately 3 years younger than himself.

"You have not given me an opportunity to answer either of your inquiries before you have put forth a new. But no, besides from an understandable ache from the impact my back had on the ground, I am sound. Obviously, I am still in possession of my speech abilities, and you can remove your two fingers from my face now that I have, indeed, seen that there are two of them."

The human youth blinked. "Holy shit, man. I'm just glad you're okay. Here, let me help you up!"

He was about to protest, but the boy was already enthusiastically hauling him up on his feet. Apparently, the human was strong for his species.

"Geez, you must weight a fucking ton man!"

But still just a human.

"As a Vulcan, I have a denser bone structure than a typical human, thus generating a higher weight than you would assume." The boy grinned at his response, grabbing his shoulder to give it a shake. He hadn't taken much notice of the proximity of the human before that moment, and he was disturbed to note this was because the usual distaste present when he had his privacy invaded wasn't present. It was, most likely, because of the warm pulse of human feelings of _relief, amusement, interest, curiosity _and something new but equally warm, if a bit different. He wondered what it was.

"Yeah, yeah; you're not fat, I get it man," he grinned, holding up a hand when he was about to comment on that statement. "Save it. You're really okay then? Because shit, I'm really sorry about this. Anyway I can make it up for you?"

"I am sound," he repeated, titling his head. "And what occurred were clearly an accident and not a conscious attack on your part, with any intentions of causing harm. I see no reason for an apology, when you have already stayed to make sure of my health. However, may I inquire what you were doing?"

It earned him what his mother called a 'sheepish' grin. "Just skating," the teen replied, nodding towards his feet which were encased in a pair of wheeled shoes. Fascinating. "I was late for a meeting at the skate park, still am now, but it's kinda a lost cause now. So it's cool. Do you skate? Like, rollerblades or skateboard or something?"

He must have done something funny in the moments it took him to consider such an absurdity; because the young man was laughing by the time he was ready to form a reply. "I have never, nor do I think I ever will."

"Oh come on, can't diss it before you try it man!"

"Diss?" He was confused.

The boy made a face. "Yeah, like, degrade, look down on, that sorta thing."

"Interesting. You make a valid point."

"I always do!" His eyebrow twitched at the arrogance clear in the words and the human's smile. "By the way, what's your name?"

Human social customs, he noted. "My name is Spock. Might I inquire of yours?"

"You may inquire anything about me, Mr. Spock," came the reply, his voice suddenly changed to something subtly warmer, darker. He paused to wink before continuing. "And the name's Jim. It was nice meeting you, not every day I run into someone as hot as myself! You should come by the park sometime; I'd like to see you again."

He was about to comment on the biological differences in body temperature before questioning the logic of expressing a desire to meet a stranger again for no apparent reason, but before he got a chance, Jim had hit his shoulder without any real force, grinned, and gone off with an alarmingly high speed.

"See ya Spock!"

He was left puzzled standing still on the sidewalk and ignoring the occasional glances his way as he regarded the back of the boy disappearing down the street.

It took him a week before he happened to be in the area, and dropped by the skate park because he'd never been there and it was always interesting to see new places. Of course, he'd been to two more in that week and this was the first place he returned to the next day.

His mother insisted to buy overly decorative blue rollerblades, when the black pair would've been more desirable. But he didn't really mind, because Jim liked them, and at places, the shade of blue matched his eyes.

* * *

**A/N: **Please review! :P


	7. As From You

**Pairing: **Kirk/Spock

**Ratings: **from K to M, it depends on the drabble/story

**Genres: **AU/AR, romance, sci-fi, drama, humour, family, friendship, hurt/comfort, angst

**Notes: **This is a collection of drabbles/short stories with the main focus on K/S. I will be experimenting with genderbending, using always a girl!Kirk and possibly always a girl!Spock, or a actual genderbending; male-gone-female. It's different from story to story.

* * *

**A/N:** Okay,** a big WARNING on this;** it's a fucking ramble-fest. I deeply apologise if it doesn't make sense. Seriously. This is me letting go completely and just typing. Also, mentions of Tarsus in the beginning and then cussing and stuff. And just because, I'll warn you again for the fragmented feel of this. I'm kinda fourth-guessing posting it at all so...ANYWAY,

Enjoy!

* * *

**As From You**

He's thirteen and his fingernails are broken and dirty from blood and mud, his lips cracked and dry, swelling in places because he's been fighting for days now and sometimes someone lands a hit because he isn't quick enough. But in the end, he wins. He has to, there is no other option. He can't lose, there is no such thing as losing. Because of Kevin and the others, the small ones and a few who are bigger but less smart, less brave, less grown-up than himself. He learns that he only matters when he's got something to protect, because it's then the Universe will try to take it from him, and so he spits and fights some more because they're waiting for him and his bony hands filled with bits and pieces of food and clothes and wood for the fires. Sometimes he steals, sometimes he hunts, sometimes he _kills._

He does things he had never thought of doing before, things that made Frank's cussing and Sam's leaving and Mother's absence feel like a distant memory of a life that wasn't really his anymore. Life of a boy who died, who had been dying even on the shuttle to this place, who had never really fit in until the starving and the deaths and the blood and the fighting.

It was here he thrived, fighting without ever losing because they're depending on him, surviving because even as he raced towards a cliff and was ready to end it he just couldn't; the Universe wasn't done with him and he wasn't done with it either. It swallowed him, chewed, and spit him out and he was kicking and screaming and laughing as he wrecked havoc on reality and went against the odds and _lived._

He lived to see his fourteenth year, and fifteenth, twentieth. He never celebrated it, because he was born to death and surrounded by it and it wasn't anything special, just something to fight and to occasionally dance with because fuck yeah, he had the moves, and the music was rhythmic and called to his blood as he downed another shot and fucked another life form because _oh yeah, he's alive._

Then there's the death of a planet, of a people, of the motherfucker who took his dad and destroyed his family before he even had had a chance to try and maybe do it himself. He gets a fucking ship out of it, and it feels like the Universe is laughing, because he knows of another place where his life was simply life and not death, and so it's bittersweet as he takes his bloodstained trophy and sets out to fuck up the Universe just a little bit more. He's got something to protect and the mission – _to boldly go where no man has gone before –_ will not fail because he's got his crew and he's got Bones and Spock around him all the time so he's never alone, so the Universe can't stop him, just tripping him so he falls and gathers bruises and scars only to stand up again because as long as there are people around him, he will protect them and he will not fail, and he will not die.

So whenever he lies bleeding on the dirt of a new planet, staring into soft, brown and amusingly _human_ eyes he knows he won't die yet because Spock's there, and so Bones isn't far away, and when he closes his eyes he will wake up on his ship and life will go on even as death haunts him with dead crewmembers and natives and perhaps another bit of his soul but he doesn't mind; he isn't safe-keeping his soul for anyone and the least he can do for those not waking for another day is follow them as far as he can before life is pulling him back for more.

He hadn't even considered the possibility of a second perspective; his world was his own and so when something alien penetrated it and merged with it he was almost appalled at what he saw through another's eyes. But maybe that wasn't him recoiling, because death wasn't scary, death was ugly and a failure but never scary, never red sands and a woman falling and a people crying. Death wasn't the dark shadows in his mind, the wounds in his soul that he wouldn't heal because they were supposed to be gone, gone with the people he failed, and it was life; breathing, eating, sleeping, fucking, fighting.

Death wasn't what Spock saw in his mind, but there was a soft warmth surrounding him so he didn't argue his point because this was better than dancing to the beat of a lethal tune that followed him like a personal theme music. It felt different than living, it wasn't life as he knew it, and he knew he'd been fighting before while clutching life in his bloody hands with the broken fingernails and cracked lips but _this….._This was more precious than the next breath and so he never wanted it to slip away, and fuck the Universe, it wasn't meant for him but nothing ever was so he was keeping it anyway, like the three-legged kitty his mum had thrown out but it hadn't mattered because the next week she was gone and then no one cared if he carried it around and fed it, protected it, cared for it. He could do the same to this, to _Spock,_ because it was Spock who was touching his mind and seeing his life and his death as they waltzed.

_Someone should nurture you, someone should feed and pet you, and someone should live for you and fight and die and love and dance. _

It wasn't life as he knew it, it wasn't death; it was Spock and there was more than one perspective and if he'd only _see_ then maybe this could be forever, something told him, but it wasn't his. His world was what it was, and how could it be anything else, he was here to fight and to protect and to live so submit, be protected, and live, because death is here and you cannot lose, there is no way you cannot win, not here, not in this world, so don't invite a world where it could happen, where loss is possible and death is something more than just a failure, where death is The End and life isn't just life but love and hate and sorrow and happiness.

_One should crave warmth where it is cold; one should crave cold where there is warmth. One should seek the balance, the harmony, of two extremes joined together for perfection, for a struggle to keep it, to continue, to strive for it because it is there and you have felt it. _

This was more precious than the next breath, but it was staring into a black hole and wondering what would happen on the journey through, and where it would land him, and so he wouldn't know how to fight, how to live or how to die. Here, he fought to live surrounded and die alone. But what of the other place?

_Parted from you, yet never parted. Friend. Brother. Lover. You are the Universe, you are life and you are death and you are mine. You are James Tiberius Kirk, and you will live and you will die and you will fight and you will live but you will do so with me, because you are what you preach, and you preach of the Universe and so you are my stars and you are my planets and you will never lose, because together, we can only win. Do not narrow your view, do not lose by separating us, see life and death and see love and sorrow and things I cannot name and help me create the world we crave. Name these feelings I have shunned and safe me, protect me, so that I may save you, protect you, and love you beyond my last breath and so beyond the Universe and its death and life. Be my beginning and my never-ending. Be mine, Jim._

And so he can't help but fall and never land because the ground isn't there unless reality says it is, and he's never listened to it anyway, so why the fuck should he do so now anyway?

Spock kisses him and caresses him and _loves him_ and suddenly life is so much more than fighting for the next breath and dying isn't just about failures anymore but about sorrow and healing and life (because there are so many newborns every second around the Universe and beyond it he can't even comprehend it).

He still cannot lose, because he's still got Spock and Bones and his crew and ship, and he's never alone now, but there's a people crying and a planet missing and his trophies are still bloody but they're there so he keeps them, polishes them, and continues to fight because that's what the Universe demands.

But now he can lie in his arms and catch his breath and know what rest is, what calm is, what life can be and so he's happy and loved and alive. He thinks he prefers it over the monopoly of a lone perspective, and wonders why he never saw life and death as a shared experience, because maybe if he had, he'd found this a bit sooner.

However, as it is now, it doesn't matter. Because there is no end in sight and even if it comes, who is to say it's an end and now just another fight, another experience, another life and another death?

Parted from me, yet never parted. He likes that_, it's Spock_, and he fucking _loves_ Spock and he thinks it's his new beat, his new drug, and fuck if it doesn't leave him delirious. Life as he knew it weren't all that great. This, however, _this_ was fucking perfection.

* * *

**A/N: **Please review! :P (Again, so sorry for the rambling feel of it! :O)


	8. Music

**Pairing: **Kirk/Spock

**Ratings: **from K to M, it depends on the drabble/story

**Genres: **AU/AR, romance, sci-fi, drama, humour, family, friendship, hurt/comfort, angst

**Notes: **This is a collection of drabbles/short stories with the main focus on K/S. I will be experimenting with genderbending, using always a girl!Kirk and possibly always a girl!Spock, or a actual genderbending; male-gone-female. It's different from story to story.

* * *

**A/N:** I just started writing as my playlist was on random, and this happened :) I might do a couple of others like this in the future, but for now, it was just a nice de-stresser :D

* * *

**Music **is what feelings sound like. ~Author Unknown**  
**

**

* * *

**

1. Magnus Weideskog - 20 år

He's turning 20 and he doesn't really know what to do with his life, but that's nothing new. He's sitting by the quarry, heavy intoxication subdued by the chilly night-air to a heavy buzz. The sky's expanding above him; dark blue with diamonds mocking him with their beauty, as he sits in dirt and bleeds.

Breathing in deeply, the smell of alcohol and smoke and blood is overpowered by the crisp air of the dry nature around him. He doesn't know what he wants, but he knows what he doesn't want. It's easier to dismiss possibilities than seek them out.

He doesn't want to become a hero; he doesn't want to die only to be glorified. He doesn't want to lose the love of his life and fuck up his kids. He didn't want to become what others said; a criminal, a failure, maybe a chance to become his father's son.

Smiling, he ignores the sting of a broken lip. 20 years, he never thought that'd be difficult.

* * *

2. R.E.M - Shiny Happy People

It's almost sickly amusing to watch, he muses. Shoreleave couldn't have come at a better time. It's been 10 months and two weeks since the Enterprise embarked on its 5 year mission, and its young crew had grown to fit their ranks and their roles on the ship. He was proud, ridiculously so. But the last few strings of missions had taken their toll, and so the stop by one of the few pleasure planets nearby had come as a greatly anticipated break.

Seriously, they were fucking _holding hands _around him; couples letting their hair down and those unattached eagerly seeking out pleasant company. Perhaps ironically, he was glad he wasn't approached.

These shiny, happy people deserved what they could get, and he wasn't about to sully their mood. He was perfectly happy himself to merely observe, and wouldn't that make Spock do a double take. Snorting, he downed his drink and gestured for another. Just one more, then he'd go outside, and put the stars into a perspective he hadn't observed properly since he left Earth.

* * *

3. Eliza Doolittle - So High

It's fucking insane, Jim thinks, holding onto whatever he could of the warm body before him. "Don't leave," he slurs. His head is aching, but nowhere near as much as his heart.

"You are not in your full mental capaties, Captain."

Oh, if only he knew. "I just…need you to know, Spock. I need you. I want you."

Yet Jim knows it's not for him, and the way he stiffens in his arms tells him so.

"Selfish," he hisses, and Jim's arms drop and he's backing away. That's right, he needs to let him go. He nods. "Yes."

Spock is happy; he knows that, can see it in his eyes. Why is he trying to destroy that? He doesn't know, there's something wrong, and then he collapses. Time is up, is his last thought, before darkness frees him.

* * *

4. - Chocolate Factory

"So, you got in a big fight, what's the deal? People proclaim their hate all the time when emotionally compromised, doesn't mean they always mean it, you know."

Spock stiffened. "This is true? If a human during an argument says they hate you, it is not always the case? I was given to understand such a proclamation would mark the end of a relationship, quite logically."

"You just have to win her back, that's all!" Jim shrugs, grinning. "And I have the perfect recipe!"

"I beg your pardon?" Spock looked confused. Oh well, he'd be too if he'd been Spock and Uhura had dumped him. Seriously, how is she NOT hanging onto him with claws and teeth?

"First, woo her with some flowers and apologies. Do some of that logical shit, but add some emotion and make her feel as if that only happens around her. Well, that shouldn't be so difficult…anyway," Jim rambled, getting up from behind his desk where Spock had first cornered him with this conversation, "take her out for dinner, and put on some meaningful music."

How Spock could look vaguely amused under the circumstances should've been his first clue something was wrong, but he was quite caught up with his own genius. "What kind of music would you suggest, Jim?"

He grinned. "Chocolate factory, by . Old Earth song, real smooth and icky sweet. Makes a good song, given that gorgeous skin and your fondness for chocolate, yes?"

A pause. "But Jim, your skin is too fair to resemble anything but white chocolate. I do not think it would be appropriate."

Hold on a minute, he must be missing something. Spock not-smiled, eyeing him fondly. Yes, definitely missing something.

* * *

5. Travie McCoy - Billionaire

"You know what be awesome, Bones?"

He didn't know, nor was he very inclined to find out. Perhaps….

"If I became a super-awesome Captain with an endless supply of credits. Like, a billionaire times a thousand."

…no, ignoring the problem most certainly did NOT get rid of it. Dammit.

"Jim, shut up and eat your vegetables," he grumbled, thinking it was too…_in-the-middle-of-the-day_ for this kind of crap.

"But seriously, I'd buy everything I'd always wanted! Doesn't that appeal to you? Oh yeah, and I'd be on the front-page of every magazine all over the Federation, and just imagine how many chicks, dudes, both or of various unknown genders I'd get to bang! Seriously, I'd buy the fucking Enterprise if they haven't given it to me for my awesome by then!"

He shuddered. "I didn't want to _ever_ imagine how many STDs a person could possibly contract, but you continue to horrify me Jim. Also, fame isn't all that great and you know it."

"Yeah yeah! A man can dream, right?"

"I'll remind you of this conversation sometime, Jim, because I know the need will arise."

"So you think I'll be an awesome, unbeatable billionaire times a thousand Captain, do you, Bones?"

"No, I think you'll go down in history for all those STDs and end up as a prime example in every medical textbook all over the federation. Are you seriously gonna make me shove those vegetables down your throat, you fat bastard?"

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, mum."

* * *

**A/N: **Please review! :P


	9. I Told You So

**Pairing: **Kirk/Spock

**Ratings: **from K to M, it depends on the drabble/story

**Genres: **AU/AR, romance, sci-fi, drama, humour, family, friendship, hurt/comfort, angst

**Notes: **This is a collection of drabbles/short stories with the main focus on K/S. I will be experimenting with genderbending, using always a girl!Kirk and possibly always a girl!Spock, or a actual genderbending; male-gone-female. It's different from story to story.

**A general warning for the whole story is that English is not my first language, so there will be typos and grammar errors. I apologize. Also, I don't own Star Trek, nor do I make any profit off of this. It's all for fun and creativity.**

* * *

**A/N: **I don't know why, but I seem incapable of doing simple one-shots any more. This story was supposed to be one, but I have a feeling people might want more. For now though, let's say it's a one-shot. lol. Also, excuse the title, my mind just drew a blank, so it's not very creative haha :,D

Enjoy!

* * *

**I Told You So**

Several months along – with mostly diplomatic and flexing Starfleet muscles kind of missions – the, for every ship in the 'Fleet now, inevitable detour to the Vulcan colony occurred. Jim was mostly curious about the progress of the Vulcans and the previous ships sent their way, having been too distracted by his new Captaincy to dedicate much attention to things that didn't relate to the mission at hand, or concerned his ship in general. Only in the now less stilted conversations with Spock over a game of chess in the rec rooms, or over a shared meal in the mess, did he receive updates.

It hadn't been that he hadn't cared, he just forgot to look into it himself – something he thought better not to share with Spock. The shaky ground of their acquaintance was finally steadying, and Jim really didn't want to mess it up. If not for the sake of their easy syncing in command, then for the warmth he could detect in those slightly human eyes at times, and the challenge his frustratingly logical mind offered his own chaotic (but no less awesome, of course) mind.

Once they arrived, however, Jim was able to observe the progress himself, and compare what Spock had relied. Construction was still underway, although an impressive amount of buildings had already been erected. The streets were busier than he would've imagined; filled with Starfleet staff posted on the colony and their Vulcan colleagues as they walked with purpose. One of the first buildings completed, the new Vulcan Science Academy, proved to be the meeting point of all the projects running, as it was the busiest place yet, from what Jim could discern. Unsurprisingly so, he mused, with so many things needing to be rebuilt from scratch and so few with the fully qualified knowledge left. They had obtained a working balance between putting their resources to use, while creating new ones, through learning by doing. Pretty much what Starfleet was doing in the wake of losing most of their senior graduates, and one of the reasons Jim had done the leap from Cadet to Captain.

Learning by doing, indeed.

He shook his head, and stood up straight from where he'd been reclining against the wall, looking out over the groups of Starfleet and Vulcans moving about. He was on a break, having just left a meeting with the High Council that had, unsurprisingly, given him a killer headache. Jim suspected it was mostly his own fault though, because even if Vulcans were less tolerant and logical as they seemed to think, they weren't all that bad after the week the Enterprise had been stationed here. He was just really bad at remembering to eat and drink enough in this heat and the high tempo and all-consuming focus it demanded of him. Fumbling and learning on the way as he was, the Council didn't give off the understanding vibes, and Jim – for many reasons – didn't want to fail this people. He'd been a witness to their loss, he had a friend (well, two, but they were in some ways the same person) among them, and he'd had up close and personal experience with genocide. This time, he was able to do something other than just survive; now he had a chance to save, to heal.

With all this on his mind, some things were put aside. He couldn't help it that his body was used to hunger and thirst from all those years ago, and could keep him running as his brain unconsciously disconnected any signals of discomfort that could alert and remind him of the need for food and water. Anything to keep going, anything to stay standing.

Only, he didn't have the threat of death hanging over him now. Sighing, Jim started walking across the square, spotting an improvised food place nearby. With their corps still growing, the colony was heavily dependent on replicators, and little resources could be spent on investing in things such as public restaurants. Substance could be found in private homes, and places such as the cafeteria of the VSA. A few were required though, for the sake of those conducting work outside of settings like those, and Jim sent a mental thank you to whoever had decided the idea held enough merit.

On his way, he attracted a few more stares than he'd managed standing in the shadows of the building whose wall he'd made use of, his golden command tunic standing out among the subdued colors of Vulcan robes and the science blue and the common redshirts of Starfleet surrounding him. He nodded in acknowledgement at the random salutes of his crewmembers and the respectful small head-bows of Vulcans who recognized his position.

He made it all the way to the restaurant, getting his food and drink, and looking up a place to sit in the shadows (a convenient improvised bench a bit further away served well), before someone caught him in conversation.

T'Sal, an intriguing Vulcan female he'd interacted with before on the various projects he'd sought out to help with, sat down beside him. Her son, a constant companion Jim had come to get used to by now (and, he admitted, a bit charmed), remained standing.

"Are your duties done for the day, Captain? It is getting late," T'Sal commented after their greeting, Jim swallowing the strange spring roll like wrapping of unknown vegetables to reply.

"Nah, just taking a break. I never stop being Captain," he said, winking and getting a raised brow in response. He had a theory about that; it was suspiciously common among Vulcans. He wondered what Spock would think of it, and promptly had to take a sip of water to hide his grin. Shrugging, he continued. "Had a meeting with the Council, nothing new. How about you? Anything interesting you've got to share, Serron?"

He directed his last question to the solemn teenager, who perked up as much as a Vulcan could at being invited into the conversation. T'Sal turned her attention to her son as well, shifting closer to where Jim sat. He had a theory about that too, one which Bones rolled his eyes at ("I don't believe it, charming the pants off a _Vulcan?_ Don't come crying to be when this goes to hell!") and Spock frowned upon ("Captain, a relationship is not to be taken lightly with a Vulcan. I must ask that you cease with this venture."). Problem was, he wasn't really _doing_ anything. He talked, about work. He was civil. He didn't know what to change, and he couldn't really start avoiding her now could he? (Spock said he could, but Jim thought it was rude, which Spock said was illogical, but Jim digresses…)

"Yes, Captain," Serron replied, nodding slightly. "I had the opportunity to converse with Commander Spock again, as he visited Mother's department today. He expressed a desire to see you, but as I was not aware of where you were at that time, I was unable to give a satisfactory reply." Somewhat endearingly, the boy seemed almost a bit stricken by this fact, which caused Jim to suppress a smile. Serron titled his head. "Has the Commander been successful in locating you?"

Jim shook his head. "We had different duties to see to today, so we've been separated. Seems like we've missed crossing paths."

T'Sal titled her head. "Indeed, that is fortunate."

Confused, Jim blinked. "M'am?"

"The Commander's visit was not purely professional. He expressed a concern of my relationship with you. I am pleased he has not spoken to you before I had an opportunity to do so."

Wow, Vulcans. They always managed to pull the rug from under his feet at completely random intervals. Clearing his throat, Jim fidgeted under T'Sal's dark, unsettlingly intense gaze. "Ah…" He really didn't know what to say.

"I find it completely illogical," Serron jumped in, breaking the awkward silence with a distracted frown, signaling he was perhaps remembering the, no doubt, _fascinating_ discussion that had taken place between his mother and Jim's First Officer. "I find you a very adequate and desirable partner for my Mother. Indeed, I would be most honored to have you as Father."

Jim, who had been in the process of occupying himself with downing a healthy portion of water, promptly jerked forward and spit it all out in horrified surprise.

_Holy shit. _

"Commander," T'Sal said, seemingly unmoved even as her son was busy staring at Jim with a look of curious fascination. Her eyes were fixated beyond Serron where Jim could now clearly see Spock striding towards them with a purpose. Where had he come from? Oh shit, he'd been close enough to hear, hadn't he? Jim felt panic claw its way from his stomach to his throat, lips twitching in a forced, stilted smile.

"Hello Spock!" Serron startled at Jim's exclamation, flushing green as he looked over his shoulder just as Spock came to a stop behind him.

"Captain," came the reply, even as always. Inclining his head, Spock included Jim's companions as well. "T'Sal, Serron, greetings."

"Greetings," they mirrored, Serron's stance slightly shy (and wouldn't that have been an adorable sight, if Jim's mind weren't digesting that the kid had referred to 'Father' and Jim in the same sentence).

"What can I do for you?" he forced himself to sound as cheerful as possible, silently begging Spock to ignore what had just taken place and _save him._

"I have business which I need to discuss with you, sir. If you are able, it would be preferable to depart at the earliest opportunity."

_Spock!_, his mind cried in joy. He could kiss the guy, seriously.

…which was a very bad thing to visualize, because it was a prospect that had become more and more appealing lately, and that was just _wrong._

"Oh sure, I'm free now, I just finished dinner," he replied with a shrug, trying to sound as casual as possible (he was pretty sure letting on how truly fucking ecstatic he was for being given an excuse to get the hell out of here was a _very, bad, idea_). Standing, he faced a somewhat disappointed looking T'Sal and a nervous Sarron watching him.

Smiling, he inclined his head. "I apologize, duty calls m'am! See you around, Serron!"

The by now familiar friendly clasp on the teenager's shoulder seemed to settle him, and his mother seemed to relax. Jim left before he could read too much into _that,_ waving in reply to their good byes as he kept up with Spock's brisk walk. He was just about to thank the man for the save, when those brown eyes of his pierced him in a slightly smug glare.

"I do believe, Captain, the expression goes 'I told you so'."

Jim didn't think he deserved his gratitude after that.

"Bastard."

* * *

**A/N: **Please review! :D


	10. Jimmy, Part 1

**Pairing: **Kirk/Spock

**Ratings: **from K to M, it depends on the drabble/story

**Genres: **AU/AR, romance, sci-fi, drama, humour, family, friendship, hurt/comfort, angst

**Notes: **This is a collection of drabbles/short stories with the main focus on K/S. I will be experimenting with genderbending, using always a girl!Kirk and possibly always a girl!Spock, or a actual genderbending; male-gone-female. It's different from story to story.

**A general warning for the whole story is that English is not my first language, so there will be typos and grammar errors. I apologize. Also, I don't own Star Trek, nor do I make any profit off of this. It's all for fun and creativity.**

* * *

**Warnings on this chapter:** Mentions of Tarsus IV, child abuse, bad language and other juciy bits as the story develops (I'll fill you in as we go).

* * *

**A/N: **I am...pretty sure, this is wrong on some level my brain wasn't informed of. This was - and please don't ask how, because IDEK - was inspired by the movie/play/musical/whatever_ Annie._ Minus the singing. And a little bit darker. And with teenage orphan instead of baby kid. So...um...read at your own risk, and...

Enjoy! :,D

* * *

**Jimmy, Part 1**

Doctor Leonard McCoy eyed the sad excuse of a building with a disgusted sneer, spine rigid in badly restrained fury. He had never been very concerned about veiling his emotions; he'd encountered so much dishonesty where emotions were concerned that the appeal to put up a pleasant front where there was none had long since crumbled and died. Which didn't really explain why he worked for a goddamned _Vulcan_ of all things, emotionally constipated and lying bastard as they were (Vulcan's don't _feel,_ my ass!).

However he did work for a Vulcan, a rather impressive one at that even he had to admit with a slight grumble, and he was here on business, so to speak. It was not a doctor's appointment; he was Ambassador Sarek's 'family doctor', as the Lady Amanda had dubbed him, but not today. Today he had been given a task some idiot had thought he'd be best suited for, which was complete bull, by the way.

Ambassador Sarek, in an attempt to smooth over negotiations, had been persuaded that it would somehow be _logical_ to let a little local orphan brat spend two weeks with him in the stationed Federation Embassy. Some shit about showing they _cared,_ or whatever. Public image. Apparently the colony was important, and their wish to break free of the Federation was _not good._ Or something, Leonard didn't really give a shit. All he knew was that he'd been sent to this _dump_ to choose a suiting kid and bring it with him. All because he was the only human available, except the Lady Amanda, but Sarek would never send his own wife on an errand like this (apparently, Vulcans were possessive and protective non-feeling bastards).

Well, the sooner he got this over with, the sooner he'd be back on the tin can they dared call ship and far away from this unnerving place (too many eyes watching, too many tight lipped people, too ridged, not enough white noise of conversation, giggles and _life)._

Taking the three steps to the door, Leonard banged a fist against the door, not at all trusting the all but decoying device which would've announced his presence like an old Earth doorbell (he didn't feel like getting electrocuted today, thank you very much). It took a couple of minutes, 5 maybe, and a few more knocks before steps could be heard thundering down a set of stairs somewhere behind the door. Quick, and light. A child, then.

The door squeaked open, and Leonard had to look down to see who greeted him. A tiny boy, all blue eyes and messy curls and rosy cheeks. Dirt streaked across his nose, and the clothes he wore were more rags than anything.

He knew the colony had a lot of humans, but he hadn't expected any of them at a place like this.

"Hello kid," he finally said, softly because he looked so scared, as the silence stretched. "May I speak to Mr. Smith?"

The child nodded, and opened the door wide. Leonard stepped through, eyes sweeping the place, noting that it looked no better than the outside. The small kid (he can't be more than 7, Leonard mused) led the way up a couple of stairs. No one else was in sight, but he could feel eyes on him again, and wondered where and _why_ they were hiding.

He didn't have much time to contemplate it, as he was led to an office door just down the hall and before he could to do much else the kid bowed and scurried away without a word.

The nameplate on the door read "Mr. Frank Smith" in faded gold. Leonard steeled himself, and knocked.

* * *

JT were many things – reckless, disrespectful of any kind of _supposed_ authority, loud, bad-mouthed, stubborn to a fault and arrogant as they come – but he most certainly was _not_ stupid. He'd hacked the government's databanks at age 12 (although he'd gotten caught and sent to _Hell_ because of it, which he barely survived, but he was back where he'd started again), and if it weren't for the little ones he'd be on the next transporter ferry off of this planet going far, far away and he'd be on it _yesterday. _

But as it was, by 14 Earth years, JT was the oldest and since there was no one around to take care of them as they should, it quite obviously fell upon him. He'd withstand Frank's drunken rages and he'd take any punishment dealt for raiding the safe and getting the money needed for an extra blanket, an extra bowl of soup, and he'd do it all over again as long as they survived. Once they were all old enough, he'd take them with him, and they'd run away and he'd take them to Earth and find them families. _Then…_then JT would join Starfleet, and get a ship of his own, and save everyone on planets like these and tear down the corrupt governments and it will be _glorious._

For now though, he had to concentrate on breathing, because the belting he just got was as vicious as ever when Frank was pumped with Romulan ale. The door slammed shut, shrouding his curled body in darkness as Frank settled into his office next door. The walk-in closet, an improvised room of punishment, was still and silent now with the exception of JT's pained sobs and trembling limbs.

Breathe, breathe, breathe was the mantra going through his head and slowly, the clink of glass and sound of liquid poured and a drunken burp of satisfaction made it through the ringing in his ears. Relaxing slowly, he stayed still for a few moments more to collect himself. Sitting up, he fumbled blindly for his shirt, torn off in haste and thrown carelessly on the floor, and carefully pulled it on. It had survived; no tears in it that weren't familiar. The rough fabric felt like glowing coal against his raw and tender back (skin had broke in places, he could feel the sticky liquid of blood slowly drying), and he gritted his teeth in pain. Nauseous but with too little in his stomach to be concerned, he crawled towards the door and rested his sweaty forehead against it, welcoming the cool surface of wood. He started at the sound of a firm knock, for a moment his heart stilled as he thought it was on the door he was leaning against, but then Frank dropped his glass with a shouted curse before soundly making his way to the door, yanking it open to snarl in the face of whoever stood on the other side.

_"What the fuck do you want?"_

A pause, JT wondered if the person facing a red-faced Frank was hesitating in fear, surprise or reflected anger. He knew what his own response would be, of course, but he was a cheeky little bastard and knew how and when to duck.

_"I am Dr. Leonard McCoy, sent here by Ambassador Sarek of Vulcan. There was a notice sent to you of my arrival and my purpose here, Mr….Smith…am I to assume you were not…expecting me?"_

The tightly controlled anger in that deep, rough voice of a man made him suppress a smile. He liked the way he said the name Mr. Smith like it was the vilest thing he'd ever seen, and really, the tone of you-are-a-fucking-disgusting-idiot was perfected by this man.

Unable to resist, JT cracked the door open silently, peering through the spring into the messy office beyond. The voice could be heard more clearly now, but Frank stood in the doorway, blocking the sight of the visitor. Shoulder stiff, Frank took a step back and invited the man in.

The man was human, and younger than his voice had led JT to believe. Yet lines marred the face flushed in anger, telling stories JT wished he knew.

"Ambassador Sarek, you say? I apologies, Doctor, I had no idea…" Frank trailed off uncomfortably, shifty-eyed and uncomfortable where he was seating himself behind his desk. The Doctor took the seat opposite without invitation, crossing his arms and glaring dangerously. Frank cleared his throat, leaning forward to continue. "But if you would please tell me what the Ambassador would want with a poor orphanage like this…"

JT narrowed his eyes, but before he could process what was being said the Doctor glanced his way and JT almost slammed the door shut in startled surprise. The dark gaze of the Doctor held his for only a moment though, before continuing on around the room as if he hadn't seen anything.

"The Ambassador wishes to extend an invitation of two weeks to a child of this orphanage, and I'm here to choose which one."

Frank jumped into motion, pulling out his drawers and fumbling with old, worn PADDs. He looked eager, if a bit scared, and JT understood perfectly. Connections were important for a man like Frank; he wanted money, he wormed his way into people's trust and respect and he took what he could. He was a drunken bastard, but when he wanted, he could charm anyone stupid or naïve enough. However, here, everyone knew. To send one of _them_ could be dangerous, if he chose them wrong.

JT opened the door a bit more, safe behind Frank as he was, and caught the Doctor's eye with an intent stare. The Doctor titled his head, listening to Frank mumblings as he tried to get the PADDs into order, raising a brow in question. JT grinned, pointing at himself, and raised a brow of his own. The Doctor's lips twitched, as he interrupted Frank's mad fumbling.

"The Ambassador has a few requests on the child," he said, getting Frank's attention.

"Oh, of course, what would they be?"

JT grinned.

"A human boy, fair colored," he began, lips twitching again as he paused. JT guessed he was trying to keep a straight face, which only made his grin widen. The Doctor resolutely did not look at him again. "As blue eyes are uncommon among Vulcans, he would prefer that as well."

That left Pavel and Riley and himself, JT mentally noted. Frank shifted uncomfortably.

"Ah, yes, we have a few of those. Is there a certain age…?"

JT caught the Doctor's eye again, holding up his fingers to signal then, then closing his one fist and leaving four fingers in the air. 14.

"The Ambassador's son it 16, so he would not want a child under 14, at least."

JT was pretty sure Frank's world just crumbled.

* * *

**A/N: **Please review! :D


	11. Closing the Gaps

**Pairing: **Kirk/Spock

**Ratings: **from K to M, it depends on the drabble/story

**Genres: **AU/AR, romance, sci-fi, drama, humour, family, friendship, hurt/comfort, angst

**Notes: **This is a collection of drabbles/short stories with the main focus on K/S. I will be experimenting with genderbending, using always a girl!Kirk and possibly always a girl!Spock, or a actual genderbending; male-gone-female. It's different from story to story.

**A general warning for the whole story is that English is not my first language, so there will be typos and grammar errors. I apologize. Also, I don't own Star Trek, nor do I make any profit off of this. It's all for fun and creativity.**

* * *

**Warnings on this chapter:** Vague, might be a bit confusing; allusions to teenage intimate sexy times but nothing graphic.

* * *

**A/N: **Inspired by the song "Kom igen Lena" by Håkan Hellström :) A few lines has been borrowed and tweaked in the story. Completely AU, and can be seen as TOS too, I suppose; it's all pretty vague :P

Enjoy!

* * *

**Closing the Gaps**

Jim was no stranger to dreams, to ambition and an imagination running wild. He faced _impossible_ every day, around every turn, and he spat it in its face with glee as he ran past and let the red sand create a dust trail after his light footsteps. No, he wasn't a stranger at all. He dreamt of the stars, from where he'd come, those many years ago. He dreamt of sneaking behind those ridiculous walls, straight into the heart of knowledge, and stealing some for his own.

And he pulled through, that once, because they were fools and they needed to learn how to dream properly. There was a distinction between dreams and delusions; their naïve philosophy of complete logic wherever they turned in their private little bubbles allowed him to hack those shiny little things, allowed him to return, because even if he'd left behind any sign they wouldn't see it because they weren't looking.

_Stop dreaming of the lovely, tranquil life; you're never going to have it,_ Jim tells the boy who invades the alley he's hiding in then. Same age, maybe older, or younger; hard to tell.

The boy looks confused, and maybe because Jim is human, he says; "I am sorry?"

"Don't apologize for things you never did," Jim replies instead of clarifying himself, maybe because he enjoys the warm brown eyes, and the confused frown of slanted eyebrows. Maybe.

The boy's name is Spock, and he's _not-hiding_ from his father's aids. Jim takes him to a better place and shows him how to run and leave a proper cloud of dust behind. When reality catches up with them, as they knew it would, Jim is looking up into stern faces and smiling, just because he can.

"What was your purpose in taking my son away?"

It doesn't help to stand on his tip-toes; the man is still impossibly tall and Jim knows who he is but respect is earned, according to Jim, and so far, this one isn't doing all that bad. Not that Jim would let him know just yet.

"He was standing next to me," he says, seeing the same confusion in another pair of eyes, "but he seemed really far away. I was trying to close the gap."

They never manage to get his name because he knows these streets well and the buildings are old, from a time when logic was a little babe and the mother a warrior wary of the changing world's fickleness, and so there are tunnels and complex corridors and he's gone by the time they've taken the wrong turn in an alley.

They couldn't dream of the possibility he climbed through that window, invaded someone's home, and that was where the failed.

* * *

It hurts, he realizes, looking out of his window to see red sands and clear skies. _He was standing next to me, but he seemed really far away. I was trying to close the gap._ So close, he knew; the same city, the same streets. But so far away; only stolen moments in shadows from then on and always looking over their shoulders, but still kicking up dust, still reaching out, but never quite touching.

So Spock showed his mother a picture one day, of a man clad in leather swinging a girl with a flowery skirt around in a movement unfamiliar to him. Dancing, she said, was not the same on Earth. Jim was quite eager to learn, that was the only reason he held his mother's hand and waist, while her free one was resting gently on his shoulder, swaying to an unfamiliar tune.

It would feel different with Jim, he knew. He could…imagine it. With the first touch of impossibly soft lips in this dry air, to music he was sure he knew the composer of moments before, he was not disappointed. Sore toes, reality with its broken bridges and stubborn distances, the deception of fake illusions of calm and serenity in life; they all mattered so little now. Swaying to the music, kissing a boy shy of fifteen.

Fantasies, spinning inside his mind, where he suspected they would always be.

"C'mon Spock." Whispers; moist breath against harsher, dryer lips. "What else could we do?"

They get sand in their hair, but his mother doesn't tell, and so he likes to think – to hope, dream, imagine – the gap is closing.

* * *

"Don't cry. Please, don't cry."

"I am not crying."

"I can see it in your eyes. You don't need tears to cry, Spock."

"Illogical."

"Truth. Reality. What is."

He's leaving but he doesn't want to go. No, Jim wants to stay. But he's only sixteen and his mother suddenly remembered him and so they're moving again, and he's not legal, and he already tried hiding but it took them a week and they found him in a cave. He said he must've been sleepwalking, because recently, he's dreamed of staying. _For once, mum, can't we stay? What's so important over there anyway?_

"I cannot catch you Jim."

They'd played tag, surrounded by sun-warmed sand and wiping it out of their eyes when they fell together. Spock is a comforting weight on his chest; warmer still than the ground beneath him.

"I can't catch you either," he begins, but is interrupted by a kiss. _Because I know you are wanted, needed, elsewhere, _he wanted to add, but he never did.

"C'mon, James," Spock sighs against his lips, "what else should we do?"

And they don't bother caring about the sand at all this time, because they rolled around a lot and they were partly-naked through most of it, and it was awesome (like a dream but it was real) and there weren't any gaps to bridge because they were _one, and together; my mind, to your mind._

* * *

Spock is in Starfleet, has been for a little while; he's getting settled. Fieldtrip, he's majoring in science, but the ship had a problem with an old circuit and docked to be repaired. He hears jazz, a familiar tune now, and lets his shoulders relax as he imagines himself on that dancefloor, with Jim pressing soft lips against his and whispering of dreams and stars and gaps closing.

And there, terran sand, and familiar lips around a straw.

"Jim."

* * *

They're playing jazz, and Jim wants to join and try out the piano, because he learned how to play it a few years ago and hasn't been able to stop toying with the keys and imagining the sound of strings sighing in his ears (Lyre, Spock had called it); Vulcan music would clash so horribly with it so he clings to this with all his might because it's funny, and he thinks he'd enjoy it.

The floors are muted with a dull carpet and the walls are tranquil; they are lies and they encase him and the cluster of aliens spread out among the tables. His mother is an Engineer and she's assigned here for the time being, and he refused to be left behind, because he dreamt of stars and here they were all around him; a small Starbase, with a room at the higher deck made almost entirely of see-though force-fields and glass. He'd intended to spend his 18th birthday locked away there; computer system hacked and properly taken care of.

After this rum and coke, of course, and maybe mum would even buy him a proper beer instead if he swallowed and smiled and got it out of the way.

_"Jim."_

And reality can go fuck itself because dreams are so much better they even replace it, sometimes.

* * *

**A/N: **Please review! :D


	12. Hello Star, Part 2

**Pairing: **Kirk/Spock

**Ratings: **from K to M, it depends on the drabble/story

**Genres: **AU/AR, romance, sci-fi, drama, humour, family, friendship, hurt/comfort, angst

**Notes: **This is a collection of drabbles/short stories with the main focus on K/S. I will be experimenting with genderbending, using always a girl!Kirk and possibly always a girl!Spock, or a actual genderbending; male-gone-female. It's different from story to story.

**A general warning for the whole story is that English is not my first language, so there will be typos and grammar errors. I apologize. Also, I don't own Star Trek, nor do I make any profit off of this. It's all for fun and creativity.**

* * *

**A/N: **Continuation of chapter 3! :)

Enjoy!

* * *

**Hello Star, part 2**

"Hey Bones!" she sings, almost skipping into sickbay and through the doors of the CMO's office, because she knows it annoys the hell out of him when she's so disgustingly cheerful in the face of his scowl.

"Dammit Jim! Don't you have a ship to run?," the doctor grumbled, only looking up from his PADD to give her a heated glare telling her she's interrupted some frustrating work. She thought she heard him mumble something along the lines of "I'm a _doctor_, not a babysitter for _the golden girl of Starfleet!_", but it was hard to tell with the drawl of his Southern accent.

She grins shamelessly, sliding up to him and settling herself between his desk and himself by a firm push against his chest. "You need to get laid, Bones! You're all bitchy and grumpy; it's not good for you! The offer still stands, you know." And she's wriggling her brows and smiling slyly from beneath long lashes.

Doctor Leonard McCoy is the only person who's ever turned her down, and continuously resisted her not so inconsiderate charms even under repeated exposure. No matter what she'd done before she'd realized that he'd stay around as a friend and that suited her so much better, he'd refused to bone her.

It was how the nickname was born, and while it used to be a taunt and a tease, it was now tinted with warm affection, and still made the older man flush at times.

"Oh shut it, that wanton sexual over-drive you've got goin' ain't that attractive," he grumbled, leaning back to create some space between them. "Or have you forgotten I'm your damn physician and privy to all the dirty details of those bloody STDs you keep gettin'? No sense in the youth today, you'd think you'd learn and start using a fuckin' condom, but no."

She throws her head back and laughs, crossing her ankles as she leans back on her hands gripping the edge of the desk. "Hey! Where's the adventure in that? I prefer it au naturell, doctor!"

"Don't I know it," he sighed, glancing back to his PADD. "So, was there somethin' you wanted, because dammit Jim, read the nice little shiny plaque on the door; says CMO, not sex therapist, doesn't it?"

"Really? My eyes must be getting bad," she grinned cheekily, "I could swear…"

"Jim," he groaned, massaging his temple and she relented, if only to keep those hypos she knew were in his desk right where they were.

"Spoilsport. Anyway, nah, I just wanted to drop by, make sure the nurses haven't killed you yet or started a mutiny. I can never seem to decide what would come first."

Bones glared, but his lips twitched in a smile. "If there'd be any mutiny it'd be against your ass, Captain."

"Ha! As if!" she snorted, jumping up and sliding away as quickly as she'd slipped in. "Since everything seems to be in order…later Bones!"

"Make sure to get some sleep! You ain't fooling me, kid!"

The doors were closing. "Yes mum!"

* * *

Chekov was adorable; there was no other way to describe it. Those puppy eyes and soft, bouncy locks just begged for attention. Jamie had found herself forcibly resisting ruffling them on several occasions, as well as pinching those cheeks and placing wet, sound kisses on each of them just like an annoying aunt might do. She feared, however, that it might be taken the wrong way. The kid had a serious hero-complex.

And apparently, dating older women was how they rolled in Russia. Or so she'd been told, with much stuttering and blushes and hypothetical references to 'friendz'.

"…..and iz really quite zimple, Keptin, zee? You just take thiz variable, zee?"

She did see, but it'd taken her close to twenty minutes. Although frustrated at the problem her young ensign had presented her with, she was amused by his blatant eagerness in sharing his beloved equations and explaining them to someone attentive enough to pay attention and learn without the condescending attitude the youth often met.

They had that in common, she mused. She, youngest Captain in Starfleet and female to boot; and Chekov, youngest on the Enterprise and probably the youngest to have his position and genius onboard any other ship in the 'Fleet.

She wanted to ruffle his hair again, the way he was looking at her now as she contemplated the mathematical problem with an interested tilt of her head. He'd caught her on her way back to her quarters, and having nothing but reports awaiting her, she'd fallen in step with him to one of the rec rooms.

"Yeah, I see it now. Thanks, I just needed that last bit of the puzzle. This is really great, Pavel," she noted, smiling. He blushed, deep red and he was almost vibrating in his seat now and good god but he was _adorable._

"Yez! Yez, it quite eazy when it iz zolved, and you zee how it workz out."

"Yeah, that's the beauty of it. When you're done and you can see it."

He nodded eagerly, eyes intent on her face as she smiled again and handed him back the PADD.

"Anyway, I think I've stalled long enough; gotta get back to those reports," she sighed, grimacing a bit. "Thanks, Pavel. See you next shift."

He stood with her, grasping his PADD to his chest and looking so nervous and disappointed and pleased it almost made her sigh. Great. As adorable as he was crushing on her, she was still his Captain. And, yeah, like seven years his senior. Even if she hadn't been his superior and in the process of quelling her libido, she wouldn't go for him. Too much innocence and she wasn't good with that; too fragile in her hands and she preferred it unbroken when it was so sincere. Better have life and age mature it than have someone wretch it apart (she knew this from experience).

"Good bye Kepten! I mean, good night! Yeah, zhat too. Good night Kepten!"

Suppressing a giggle, she wrinkled her nose in delight before giving him a wave and turning to leave the room. Her steps faltered as she spotted Spock and Uhura occupying a corner, a small table between them. Huh, she hadn't noticed them enter; they must've arrived after her and Chekov. Her focus had pretty much been on that insanely complicated maths problem since she'd set her eyes on it so she supposed it wasn't that strange. Still…

Spock had apparently been observing her because as soon as she'd noticed them their eyes had met and Jamie gave a crooked smile and a wink, only to watch that green flush his cheeks.

She left before Uhura caught on, preferring her scull intact and attached to her body, please, thanks.

* * *

The rest of the evening passed relatively quickly, and it was late into the night and early into the morning when she finally filed the last report and finished her latest cup of a countless string of coffee.

Damn, she really needed to learn when to lie off, she mused. She was still so unused to have such a set schedule and responsibility to follow; something that demanded enough sleep to keep her alert and enough food to keep her balanced. At the Academy, she'd sleep through lectures or missed them entirely because, well, she always aced the tests anyway. Now though, 400 something people depended on her efficiency and it was daunting as well as it was thrilling in its challenge.

With the hours she'd lost working through PADDs, and the amount of caffeine now in the system to keep her going, would probably not allow her more than three and a half hour of sleep. Not the optimal; she required four to five to feel like herself the day after.

Baby steps, she told herself. You learn from your mistakes.

Sighing, she tried not to think what mistakes might cost her from now on; so far, the Enterprise's missions had been simple in nature and they haven't strayed far from Earth and had mostly acted in diplomacy as well as a symbol of strength to the enemies of the Federation that were eagerly trying to see if Nero had weakened them enough for a successful assault.

However, last time they'd spoken, Pike had alluded to a possibility or something a bit more productive coming up. Admittedly, she could hardly wait. As nice as it was to breathe after what had occurred no less than three months ago, Jamie Kirk was not accustomed to be still for any long periods of time. It just didn't work; she'd be fidgety and bouncing with energy and moody as a teenager. She suspected Pike knew this very well, and she hoped it was so that he didn't want to unleash that particular monster upon the crew of the Enterprise just yet.

Well, whatever happened, sleep would need to come first. Falling heavily onto her bed, grunting a bit as she bounced on the hard mattress, Jamie closed her eyes and breathed out. She didn't bother to change out of uniform; too weary now that everything had caught up with her. It didn't take her too long to succumb, despite the caffeine. Thank god for small mercies.

* * *

**A/N: **Please review! :D


	13. Hello Star, Part 3

**Pairing: **Kirk/Spock

**Ratings: **from K to M, it depends on the drabble/story

**Genres: **AU/AR, romance, sci-fi, drama, humour, family, friendship, hurt/comfort, angst

**Notes: **This is a collection of drabbles/short stories with the main focus on K/S. I will be experimenting with genderbending, using always a girl!Kirk and possibly always a girl!Spock, or a actual genderbending; male-gone-female. It's different from story to story.

**A general warning for the whole story is that English is not my first language, so there will be typos and grammar errors. I apologize. Also, I don't own Star Trek, nor do I make any profit off of this. It's all for fun and creativity.**

* * *

**A/N: **Continuation :P

Enjoy!

* * *

**Hello Star, part 3**

"Captain, it would appear from your appearance that you are not of optimal health," the smooth voice of Spock greeted her where she stood in her doorway having just opened after bolting up to answer to buzz. Seriously, she'd been scared awake for this? Even his eyebrow was in place, for fuck's sake.

"Is that Vulcan for 'shit, you look like hell frozen over, Captain'?" she grumbled in reply, pushing her hand through her hair in an attempt to soothe it. She was sure it stuck out in all direction, but she refused to blush. Uhura probably had wicked bed-hair too; that straight ponytail was just too perfect not to.

"As Vulcans do not believe in the concept of hell, that would be most illogical, Captain," came the predictable response, slightly stiff as she remained unwilling to elaborate on her state of distress.

"Yeah, yeah. What's up Spock? Am I late for my shift?" she dismissed, stifling a yawn behind her hand.

"No, Captain, there is approximately 1.3 hours left until you will be expected on the bridge. I merely wished to discuss something in private settings before such a time, as you had made yourself unavailable last night."

She blinked, a bit too tired for Spock-speech but getting the gist of it. Once she caught up, she didn't bother to suppress her growl and heated glare that had Spock stiffening further in alarm and confusion. "Great, just great. Instead of three hours, I get two. Great. Fucking awesome. Whatever, come on, get inside then, and spill."

Hesitantly, Spock followed her lead and the door swished closed behind them. Settling herself behind her desk she motioned for Spock to join and she was pleased to note he did almost immediately instead of going on about a preference for standing as he'd done in the beginning. She was short enough already and she just really hated looking up at people all the time. Spock didn't make her feel quite so small when he too was seated, though admittedly, that could have something to do with the adjustment she'd made to the chairs.

"So yeah, what's up?" She didn't feel up to making this drag on longer than necessary; she might be able to catch a nap before shift yet.

Spock eyed her, taking in her wrinkled uniform and dark circles beneath her eyes, as well as the pale pallor of her skin. She had not looked this weary yesterday, and he felt a twinge of anxiousness at the rapid change. Shifting, he resolved to set things right again.

"Initially, I was going to inquire of something that has caught my attention as of late, but it seems a more pressing matter has made itself known."

Puzzled, Jamie titled her head. "Yeah? What's that?"

"Your health, Captain," he stated calmly, with more patience than he felt. Had they not had a similar conversation just hours ago? "It would appear your sleeping habits are poorly lacking. Have you consulted Doctor McCoy?"

Sighing, she rubbed her eyes tiredly and slumped further in her chair. "It's nothing Spock, I just forgot about the time as I was filing those damn reports. I inhaled a bit too much coffee. But other than that, I'm fine. Really."

"Your lack of concern is, as always, admirable," he noted, unable to quell the urge to comment such and even to mask the sarcasm in his tone. Jamie's wide, blue eyes snapped up at him in surprise and stared for a moment before warming and glinting in that agreeable way that told him his Captain was amused.

"What can I say? I'm just that awesome!" she grinned, pausing to yawn again. "Anyway, yeah, seriously; I'm fine. I promise to get a good night's sleep tonight, okay? Okay, good. So, what else was it you wanted to talk about?"

Here, he hesitated. Nyota's response to his observations had been to inform him of the need of this confrontation, but he was illogically unwilling to breech the topic. Filing it away for later meditating, he braced himself.

"I came here to discuss Ensign Chekov."

She blinked, face blank in her shock before her eyes widened and she started to laugh. "Oh my god! I can't believe I'm going to have this conversation with my Vulcan First Officer! I was so sure Bones would get to me first!"

Confused, Spock raised a brow. "You were aware of the situation?"

"Yeah," she grinned, "I'd have to be pretty blind to miss it. However, no need to worry Spock. It's quite normal for humans to develop affections for those they admire. It's nothing."

"I beg to differ, Captain," Spock said, resisting the urge to frown and not quite sure he managed in the face of his Captain's amusement. "It is quite inappropriate, and as you have in the past exhibited a tendency to act on others' interest I find it necessary to remind you it is against regulations, and that you cease encouraging such behavior."

From the tense silence that settled, Spock sensed that somewhere, it had gone wrong. Her eyes weren't glinting anymore and they seemed to be of a blue closer to ice than a summer sky.

Illogical.

"I understand, Mr. Spock. Your concern has been noted," she said, voice oddly stiff compared to her usual (irrelevant, he noted) warmth. "If you'll excuse me, I need some time to shower and eat before the shift. I trust you can see yourself out."

And then she was gone, the door to their joined bathroom locking with a soft beep.

He looked down at his hands, now clasped in his lap.

Unwilling to acknowledge the heavy feeling of regret and helpless floundering, he stood and left before the thought of staying and knocking on the bathroom door took root.

* * *

Jamie knew she was being stupid and stubborn and an overall ass. She knew he probably –probably, hopefully – hadn't meant it_that way_ but she was tired of being pushed away and she was tired of the words and the looks. Strangers she could deal with, fuck them, but…Spock? She didn't really know what to do, how to feel. Their friendship had seemed to smooth and sure, new but growing and deepening steadily, and she had been…assuming he'd know. That he'd be like Bones and see past it and she knew it was unfair. He was Vulcan, with little understanding of humans and much less of someone as screwed up as Jamie herself.

But the day following that morning she'd been stiff and perhaps cold and even though she knew it wasn't fair of her, she realized that perhaps, it was better this way.

Uhura seemed silently pleased by the rift between them, and it unsettled the blonde. She'd flirted shamelessly with Uhura and eventually Spock but she'd dropped all that, it was just teasing now, but perhaps that was stepping over the line still. She didn't want to lose Spock's friendship out of a careless remark, but she could probably do without the flirtatious teasing. They all could. For Spock, they were unwanted, for Uhura probably annoying and unpleasant. Jamie, well, she just flirted with everything and yeah, Spock was _hot_, so she hadn't really thought about it. Until now.

God, was this a fucking loveboat or what? Puppy crushes and triangle dramas. No, she was definitely through with it. There were other open for her attention, probably fighting for it too. And she had shoreleave for the rest.

She didn't get up to stand by his station when she asked of his readings, and it earned her a quick glance but otherwise his usual smooth voice replied steadily. Yeah, she could do this.

* * *

**A/N: **Please review! :D


	14. Hello Star, Part 4 FINAL

**Pairing: **Kirk/Spock

**Ratings: **from K to M, it depends on the drabble/story

**Genres: **AU/AR, romance, sci-fi, drama, humour, family, friendship, hurt/comfort, angst

**Notes: **This is a collection of drabbles/short stories with the main focus on K/S. I will be experimenting with genderbending, using always a girl!Kirk and possibly always a girl!Spock, or a actual genderbending; male-gone-female. It's different from story to story.

**A general warning for the whole story is that English is not my first language, so there will be typos and grammar errors. I apologize. Also, I don't own Star Trek, nor do I make any profit off of this. It's all for fun and creativity.**

* * *

**A/N: **The end of "Hello Star" :)

Enjoy!

* * *

**Hello Star, part 4 (FINAL)**

It had been almost two weeks since 'The Resolution', as she's come to call it, and Jamie is quite eager to accept the invitation to Bones' quarters for a few glasses of that nice amber liquid over the newest edition of a medical journal and a few laughs. They're in the mess when making these plans, seated together with Scotty and Sulu (which, by default, meant Chekov had been tagged along as well, much to the kid's delight).

"It's your day off tomorrow, and you're gonna do drunken research to celebrate?" Sulu interjected, leaning forward and staring at the pair of them like he was missing something. Bones rolled his eyes as Jamie broke out into laughter (_not_ giggles; she just had a rather light voice, okay?).

"Well, not the _usual_ kind, right Bones? We don't always study anatomy on my dates," she said with a wink, grinning as Scotty's ears turned bright red and Sulu choked on his drink.

"Date?" Chekov repeated, uncertainly, and she almost rolled her eyes. Bones beat her to it.

"Don't listen to her kid. And would you pass the salt, Scotty? Stop staring for Christ's sake!"

Well, that seemed to snap most of them out of their stupor. Jamie shook her head, grinning. The rumors that had spread about her close friendship with the older doctor back in their Academy days (not so long ago, she muses, suppressing the weird feeling that always manifested at the thought) had been quite creative, and she wondered if they would be following them out in space too. In these past two weeks, it seemed likely.

Apparently, crossing out Spock on her list of people that were Fun to Flirt With resulted only in increasing her touchy-feely self among the others. She thinks she might've broken something in his mind when she kissed Bones soundly on the cheek for delivering the heavenly hypo that stopped that horrid allergic reaction she'd had from that damn plant in the labs several days ago. Kisses, between them, were for drunken affections and annoying teasing only. Not sincere gratitude.

She even caught herself leaning forward to smile, tilt her head, and add another blink when talking to _Komack_ of all people. Even though his flustered reaction (pulling at his collar, glaring) had been the most amusing thing _she'd_ seen since Sulu, in a bout of embarrassed clumsiness, spilt a whole tray of some plant's phlegm samples on Uhura who'd come to take a look at the newest addition in the botanic gardens, Jamie didn't think that her First Officer had been all that amused by it. He'd gone rather stiff by her side, and damn it, but it was _hard_ to keep her distance. Although there were no longer and subtle brushes along his arm, or lingering smiles and teasing winks, sometimes he stood so close and looked so confused it hadn't taken her long to realize he noticed the change. How could he not? He was, sometimes, too observant for his own good, she thinks. And it makes her feel even worse; she knows he deserves an explanation because he's still her friend, and they still play chess and bicker and discuss warp field mechanics.

She just hasn't worked up the courage yet, and she doesn't even know what she's afraid of. Maybe, she comes to realize as Spock meets up with her as she leaves the mess with a quick to Bones and the others, maybe she's afraid he'll observe something she doesn't want him to see.

Because it hurts more than it should, and feels more like a betrayal, to cancel their chess game tonight because Bones invited her for a few glasses of brandy on a whim.

"I'm sorry, Spock," she says, not quite meeting his eyes. "Another time?"

He shifts where they stand outside her quarters, arms flexing and alluding to a tighter grip of his hands behind his back. She winces, forcing herself to finally meet his heavy gaze and smile. His eyebrows are drawn together in a frown, and she gets the impression his ears (so tempting to lick, and bite) are flattened against his scull in some form of emotional distress. She can't quite tell _what_ form, but his eyes are dark (so expressive) and the expanse of his wide shoulders (perfect to hang on to) are stiff in some form of determination. She really needs to stop observing him like he's going to be her next partner to warm her bed, because he_wasn't,_ dammit!

"If I have offended or displeased you in any way, Jamie, I would be much obliged with you would share this so I may make amends."

Oh.

Holy _balls._

He'd said her name, just like that, without prompting. And she's such an ass; she should've had this conversation directly after that confrontation about Chekov. What did it matter if she let something slip? Spock could handle it, and she most certainly could, right? Right, well, regardless, they were _not_ doing this out in the open.

"Let's go inside, Spock," she said, after taking a deep breath. Turning, she quickly keyed in the opening sequence and stepped inside, not waiting for his reaction, and quickly made her way to her desk. Sprawling in the chair, she looked up and Spock and grimaced. "Sit."

Promptly, he did, and she thinks she's never seen him this nervous. But the stubborn set of his shoulders were still present, even if he might've been wringing his hands a bit.

"You've done nothing wrong, Spock, the fault lies with me," she begins, holding up a hand to prevent an interruption. He snapped his mouth shut and nodded, indicating he understood. She smiled. "I have treated you like my other friends, and this has caused trouble I didn't mean for. I flirt, Spock. I touch and feel without giving it a conscious thought and this sets some people off. For Uhura, this part of me was offensive. For Chekov, it's misleading. For you…it's intruding. And I'm sorry, Spock. When I realized this I…stopped. It was nothing you did, it's not because I think any less of you, but rather the other way around. Okay?"

She waited, not realizing she was holding her breath until her lungs started to burn. Silence. Spock was staring at his hands, eyebrows titled into a frown. For a few moments, she thought he might simply stand and leave, but he finally looked up and something about his eyes made her freeze.

"It…was never intrusive. It seems to have been more misleading, as with the Ensign. I…apologize. I will…take my leave, Captain. I wish you a pleasant evening."

He was standing, and before she knew it, she's launched herself across the desk and firmly gripped his wrist. She would not be able to hold him with force, but the surprise was enough to keep him still for a few moments. It was all she needed, hopefully.

"What do you mean by that Spock? Don't you dare run!"

He didn't; staring at her hand around his wrist with an unfamiliar intensity. She wondered if any of her feelings were seeping through; she could sense her heart clapping hard in her chest in startled confusion.

"You stated that you were simply treating me as any one of your friends, Captain. I was under the wrong assumption that you…were expressing a…different kind of interest, in me. I…." He trailed off, cheeks and ears flushed a light green and Jamie could feel her breath hitch and stomach flipping dangerously.

"You…seem disappointed. But…what about Uhura? It's natural to be attracted to people aside from your partner, Spock, if that's the problem it's all right, I understand, but…"

He titled his head. "What of the Lieutenant?"

"Your girlfriend," she pointed out, frowning as she wondered if maybe he wasn't as monogamous as she'd thought. His eyes widened, and as she felt his hand flex she realized she hadn't released his wrist yet. And Spock hadn't removed her grips, either.

"The Lieutenant and I ended our romantic relationship shortly after the mission's start. We remain friends. You did not know?"

She quickly came to the conclusion that she needed to sit down, and as she slowly sunk back into her seat she released his warm wrist and blinked, dumbly.

"Um, no?" she began, shaking her head. "But she was acting like the proper scorned lover whenever I got too close to you, and…."

She trailed off as Spock slid around the desk to stand close, looking down at her with an unreadable expression on his face. "Although the decision to part ways was mutual, Nyota has remained rather illogically protective. I have attempted to assure her you are not what rumors make you out to be, and it would be illogical to assume such without any substantial evidence, but she refuses to 'back down' until she has 'seen it with her own eyes'."

Jamie thinks he might've broken something in her with that little speech, but she didn't really care, because right now she was more concerned with kissing those lips that were so close, once she had stood up.

Spock remained still for perhaps a heartbeat or two (shock, she gathered, and probably with good reason. She moved fast when she was on a mission), before her nudging tongue was met with his own (and everything was right with the world, because she's never shared a kiss like this, and the simple fact that it was _Spock_ was so awesome in itself she didn't quite knew what to do with herself, so she simply moaned, and let him deepen the kiss further).

"Wow," she whispered against his lips once he broke away to allow them to breathe. His breath was hot against her skin as he answered with a quiet "Indeed". They stood still for a few moments; breathing each other's air, with her hands buried in his silken hair, standing on her tip-topes, and Spock's arms resting around her waist with warm hands cradling her arched back. As a dull ache began to form in her feet from trying to reach Spock's height, Jamie let herself sink back to the floor and she didn't even bother to suppress the giggle that bubbled up from somewhere deep inside.

"Well, this was rather fast and unexpected," she remarked, grinning at the raised brow she got in return.

"Since it would seem that perhaps I was not faulty in my observation that you harbored a different kind of interest in me compared to others, and you have been properly informed of my availability, it does not seem so 'fast and unexpected', as you say," was his reply, and she couldn't help but steal a quick kiss; pressing soft lips against his swollen ones (she can be nice _and _bite, should the situation call for it) before pulling away.

"Really? How d'you figure?" His eyes didn't leave her mouth as she spoke, continuing to observe them even as he tried to explain. "We have engaged in interactions of those seeking romantic interest for approximately 2.3 months, and as such, a conclusion of this nature is…logical."

And highly anticipated, she wanted to add in an imitation of his calm, serious voice but he was leaning in and capturing her lips before they could part. She was quite content to leave it at that, because she thinks she's starting to see stars as she's pushed up on her desk and Spock's warm body slips in between her legs. A hitch of breath breaks the kiss, Spock's hips pushing against her and making her head drop back and her body arch in search for more.

"Hello star," she whispers in his ear later, kissing the tip, because he's heat and bright flame in her arms and somewhere along the way, lights are on 10%, and he's the only thing in sight. Apparently, 2.3 months were enough foreplay and she can't help but agree.

**END**

* * *

**A/N: **Please review! :D


	15. From Afar

**Pairing: **Kirk/Spock

**Ratings: **from K to M, it depends on the drabble/story

**Genres: **AU/AR, romance, sci-fi, drama, humour, family, friendship, hurt/comfort, angst

**Notes: **This is a collection of drabbles/short stories with the main focus on K/S. I will be experimenting with genderbending, using always a girl!Kirk and possibly always a girl!Spock, or a actual genderbending; male-gone-female. It's different from story to story.

**A general warning for the whole story is that English is not my first language, so there will be typos and grammar errors. I apologize. Also, I don't own Star Trek, nor do I make any profit off of this. It's all for fun and creativity.**

* * *

**A/N: **A sequel/compantion piece to "Closing the Gaps", and it makes little sense without reading that first :)

Enjoy!

(NOTE: Sarek and Amanda PoVs)

* * *

**From Afar**

Sarek of Vulcan will never admit it out loud, but he doesn't need to, because when they join minds later that night his wife knows and she wraps her soothing, soft spirit around him and he is settled within himself – whole – and knows it does not truly matter. He understands, then, and is capable to view it from the perspective it had perhaps been most logical to view it; the very emotional, human, perspective. Fascinating, truly, as he reconsiders what happened.

But he still remembers the shocking spike of nearly uncontrollable fear from that day, and it would be impossible to forget, even if he had not been Vulcan. He thinks it is justified, because he is a successful Ambassador and just as famous as infamous in many galaxies throughout the Universe; modesty is completely illogical, when stating facts as they are. He knows this, and is well aware of other species and their illogic of breeding contempt or admiration. Friends and enemies; something many Vulcans would not consider, but in the world of politics and diplomacy it would be foolish and ignorant to discard.

Nevertheless, he had rarely been quite so aware of the reality of _enemies_ as he had been when his son – so young and curious and pleasingly intelligent – disappeared without a trace from the very Embassy Sarek was currently stationed at, even as security reported a breach.

His aides had not noticed the boy's disappearance; silent as he was in face of the imposing authority figures. They had not taken sufficient notice of him; had not taken into consideration his human half and his curiosity. Sarek had not known how to face such incompetence at that moment, and had merely latched on to the treasured family bond and sought for any trace of distress.

Illogically, the lack of it had not done much to calm him, as the boy had yet to be found.

When he was finally discovered – dark robes dusty and hair in disarray, cheeks dirtied with the red sands of Vulcan and his mother's soft eyes shining – it had been at the very edge of the city and in the company of…a human.

The urge to collect his child to the safety of his arms had been suppressed with difficulty, but he had focused on the smiling face of the human child with eyes blue as the terran sky.

"What was your purpose in taking my son away?" he had asked, taking a step closer and noting how the child tried – and, unsurprisingly failed – to meet his height.

"He was standing next to me, but he seemed really far away. I was trying to close the gap."

The reply had startled him, given the child enough time to slip past them and into the web of alleys even as Sarek had barked orders to have him followed.

He had kneeled by his son, hands confirming there had been no harm done, and resolved to meditate at the soonest opportunity.

"What happened, my son?"

"I followed, because I did not wish to increase the distance. He was…fascinating."

* * *

_My husband, Spock made a friend. For the first time, someone approached him with the desire to know him, simply because he is Spock, and to do so, this boy…was willing to take the next step. My husband, we took the first. It is Spock's turn now, too. Alone, he cannot be a bridge for two cultures. _

_Do you understand?_

He might.

* * *

She thinks she understands, after the initial shock has passed and it is finally processed in her mind. So she puts on _Petite Fleur _and guides his hands to her waist and gently grabs his other and they begin to sway; his impressive, and soothing, telepathy tuning in on her mind with ease.

His smooth cheeks flush at her potent adoration; she doesn't hide her smile, because they're dancing and her little boy isn't so little anymore, but a teen, and it's a bittersweet notion. The _sweet_ concur when he comes home two hours past his curfew with clothes slightly wrinkled and cheeks darker than she's ever seen them; red sand sticking stubbornly to his hair. Sarek has yet to return from the Embassy as so she merely smiles, brushing a hand through his hair, and lets him touch her mind through the caress.

_It's all right. _

_Stay safe._

_Don't be late again._

_I love you._

She is too happy to see the human side melding with the Vulcan at last, that she can't bring herself to be angry. Not this time.

* * *

They know that something is different, but somehow, his wife manages to convince him to let it be. He trust her, and with the increased workload at the Embassy, Sarek does not have the time to observe and gather enough data to truly approach the situation.

Amanda kisses his lips and caresses his finger, trapping him in their bed for hours and he relax; his wife's confidence and natural skill with the emotions that run so freely through her mind putting him at ease.

She says Spock has lost a dear friend, and to be forced to process this, it has resulted in the increased maturity he sees.

"Wife, attend."

And she does not lie, but there is something else, and he knows, as his son looks away from their joined fingers, that he has been touched and there is a bittersweet relation to this insight.

_He has loved, my husband. _

_Teenage love._

_Isn't that sweet?_

Perhaps.

* * *

She regrets her son's happiness came at the cost of his father's approval.

But what is, is.

_"Mother…."_

But today, she is staring at the screen on their comm. unit with wide eyes and does not comprehend why her son is on the other side after a full year of silence invoked by his father's cold shoulder and his own pride.

_"C'mon Spock, you promised!"_

Maybe it isn't so difficult to understand at all. Blue eyes, sand of terran deserts, ears just as round as her own. She thinks she knows.

"Spock…"

A flash of a smile, the human man-boy has an arm behind her son's back and he's leaning into it with those flushed cheeks she remembers so well.

_"I trust you are well, Mother? I have been…very well."_

She can tell.

"Yes."

_"He's at the tops of his class, you know, Mrs. Sarek! Awesome with those computers, and together we totally cracked the system to call you. Your husband won't see trace of it, if that's what you want!"_

Oh, but this child is delightful. She sees a familiar spark in those eyes, from when Spock responded to her teasing or when he came home for another dance lesson and had improved without her help.

"I suspect that was part of your argument when convincing my son to finally call, Mr…?"

Her son fidgets, and the blonde child wraps his arms fully around his waist for a light hug. Her smile widens, even as her son's blush deepens.

_"I apologize Mother, for the length of time since my last call and for the lack of a proper introduction. This is…James."_

She thinks she can hear 'my friend, my brother, my lover' in that name and so what more can she do?

"It is a pleasure to meet you James._ Thank you."_

* * *

**A/N: **Please review! :D


	16. Shine, Part 1

**Pairing: **Kirk/Spock

**Ratings: **from K to M, it depends on the drabble/story

**Genres: **AU/AR, romance, sci-fi, drama, humour, family, friendship, hurt/comfort, angst

**Notes: **This is a collection of drabbles/short stories with the main focus on K/S. I will be experimenting with genderbending, using always a girl!Kirk and possibly always a girl!Spock, or a actual genderbending; male-gone-female. It's different from story to story.

**A general warning for the whole story is that English is not my first language, so there will be typos and grammar errors. I apologize. Also, I don't own Star Trek, nor do I make any profit off of this. It's all for fun and creativity.**

* * *

**A/N: **A companion piece to "Hello Star". What of Spock Prime in this reality? Basically; "It is you Jim, but not as I knew you."

Lyrics in italics before the title is from the song "Shine" by Ta-shma.

Enjoy!

* * *

_You give me everything I have  
__You are the ground on which I stand  
__You are my life, my length of days  
__You are the rhythm in my veins_

**Shine, part 1_  
_**

At the distant sound of a distinctly furious roar of what he guessed was a rather large inhabitant animal of this planet, Ambassador Spock tensed by the fire he had made inside the cave. Illogical; he was safe here; the beast had no doubt found a prey and he was not it. The cave's entrance was not big enough for what the ground's vibrations would tell him of the animal's size. However, he was sufficiently unbalanced to note that these reassurances did little to ease the tension in his shoulders. Also, he noted, the unknown inhabitant was rapidly closing in on his position. Grabbing a nearby stick from the pile he'd gathered for the fire, he secured a torch quickly, years of service and experience in unexpected and dangerous situations coming to play in his instincts. He stood, giving the escape routes a measuring stare as he waited; ready to run for safety.

Despite this, he was not prepared for the violent impact the beast must have had against the cave's entrance; the entire foundation of rock and solid ice rattled and he could barely keep his balance let alone get his legs to move into a run.

He almost missed the gasps and panicked shots of fury then, the light footsteps of whatever the beast had followed hear swallowed by its own heavy and ruthless movements. Even as the ground settled, Spock was already moving towards the loud noise of struggles, torch clutched tightly in his grips. He did not stop to think, moving blindly towards the beast with its snapping jaws and sharp claws. He could not be sure if it would retreat, but instinct urged him on as he stabbed the torched violently in the air; the heat of the fire scalding the frozen air and he felt a sharp pulse of victory as the enormous creature backed away further the closer he got with the fire.

It was over so quickly, he had to wonder if his time sense had somehow gotten severely rattled, but before he could allow himself to chase that stray line of thought his attention was brought to the struggling creature on the floor; humanoid, he noted, and then his eyes landed on its face and he froze. A human female, bruised and battered by the chase probably, had her blonde hair tousled and delicate cheeks and freckled nose flushed a deep red. Her lips were open and excluded a mist of steam as she panted for breath; startlingly icy-blue eyes wild as the adrenaline no doubt rushing through her system in abandon.

What was a _Human_ doing here?

"Thank you," she breathed, standing before his now and eying him warily. He titled his head in acknowledgement, unsure of how to proceed with the situation. Unlike him, the child seemed not to share his indecision. "So who the hell are you and what're you doing here? Wait, are you…_Romulan?_"

She seemed to have noticed his ears, flushed green in the cold, and the slant of his eyebrows; now standing in a position to pounce should he make any suspicious moves. He held up his hands in an attempt to show his peaceful attentions, but the girl's eyes only narrowed. Before she could find an excuse for attack, he swiftly tried to explain the situation.

"No, I am not. I am a Vulcan; this is its sister planet. I am not meant to be here, but was sent here against my wishes. I was on my way to attempt to locate the Starfleet base for guidance in the situation."

A few moments went by in silence, the sick feeling in his stomach that he needed to hurry – it wasn't over yet, and he needed to move – almost overpowered him, but he kept still; waiting.

"All right, you don't…really…strike me as a Romulan. You wouldn't have saved me either I guess. So…do you know where the base is?"

Spock shook his head, gesturing with his free hand towards where he had left the fire. "I do not; however, I have discovered several pathways that I believe should lead us in the general direction as they seem to have been manufactured. Since the only sentiment and peaceful beings in these parts are of Starfleet, it is logical to assume this is a result of their presence."

He had spent enough time around humans such as Jim and Doctor McCoy to understand why the child laughed at his words.

"Great! Well, I happen to know which way to go, so that'll make things even easier. I managed to get some equipment with me that doesn't seemed to have been harmed…fucking lobster," she muttered, feeling for something in her pocket and nodding to herself. Spock eyed her.

"Indeed. If I may ask…how did you end up in such a…predicament?"

Rolling her eyes, she muttered something underneath her breath he had to bite his cheek to keep from smiling at. She was inventive with the human language, but there were Klingon and some Orion in there was well, he noted with interest. "Well, let's just say I didn't want to be here either, and some jackass threw me off here against my will as well."

They had arrived by the fire then, and as he bent for another stick to offer her a torch for herself as they would travel the tunnels, her statement made him drop his own instead.

"By the way, you never really said who you were. I'm Jamie Kirk. There, now, what's yo-hey, are you all right? Hey!"

Her gloved hands were on his shoulders, shaking, but he could do little else but stare.

It couldn't be…

But that fire in those eyes….and as he finally took notice of her essence spilling so freely through her skin to caress his tattered shields, he could not deny it. _Golden shine in the night's sky and the warmth of the fire in a cabin; the brush of lips across the tip of his ear and the touch of fingers at the small of his back in the face of the impossible. The veins embracing his blood and the incense tailored for his soul._

_"Jim…?"_

He – no, _she_, she is _Jamie_, but she is _Jim_ – froze. "How did you know I'm called that?"

"James T. Kirk," he breathed in barely repressed shock, joy and disbelief. _How do you always find me, Jim? How?_

"Um…" Her hands were slipping off his shoulders; body preparing to retreat but her swiftly took a hold of her wrists and stared imploringly into narrowing eyes. "I am Spock. Jim…."

She was staring at him, wide-eyed, the struggle she'd been preparing for in the stiffening of her limbs weakening in shock. "What the fuck?"

He gently brought her down to sit with him by the fire, not releasing her wrists in case she slipped out of his grasp. All he knew was that James Kirk was here, and the sick feeling in his stomach was replaced by the calming sense of security and confidence. James Kirk was here, though in a form he had never expected, and so…Nero would fall.

Though, he had much to explain.

* * *

**A/N: **Please review! :D


	17. Shine, Part 2

**Pairing: **Kirk/Spock

**Ratings: **from K to M, it depends on the drabble/story

**Genres: **AU/AR, romance, sci-fi, drama, humour, family, friendship, hurt/comfort, angst

**Notes: **This is a collection of drabbles/short stories with the main focus on K/S. I will be experimenting with genderbending, using always a girl!Kirk and possibly always a girl!Spock, or a actual genderbending; male-gone-female. It's different from story to story.

**A general warning for the whole story is that English is not my first language, so there will be typos and grammar errors. I apologize. Also, I don't own Star Trek, nor do I make any profit off of this. It's all for fun and creativity.**

* * *

**A/N: **A companion piece to "Hello Star". What of Spock Prime in this reality? Basically; "It is you Jim, but not as I knew you." Second part. I hope you're having a great time this Holiday season guys! :D Sorry, no Christmas or wintery stories to publish; been busy with my Secret Santa exchange on DeviantArt :) Anyway...

A little **warning** for this piece is that, well...it's Jamie Kirk, and she's rambling. A lot. But Spock doesn't mind. So, um, yeah, on that note...

Lyrics in italics before the title is from the song "Shine" by Ta-shma.

Enjoy!

* * *

_My heart pulses to your name,  
I rise from sleep and speak your praise,  
Before I ask, you fill my request,  
Before I speak you are my breath  
_

**Shine, part 2_  
_**

The last he saw of her had been worried eyes whose particular fascinating shade of blue inspired the same illogical, poetic musings as the brown-green-gold of another had, all those years ago. He had sensed her reluctance in parting with him, something which no doubt had frustrated her simply because she had not known him for long, and it had been visible even through her impish smiles and jesting remarks. He, however, had not been as concerned about trying to conceal the fact that watching her dissolve in the bright light of a transporter, to be thrown into a dangerous and seemingly impossible situation, without him by her side, had been difficult. Despite his sincere and deep trust in her abilities, and knowing that even if he wasn't there, his…counterpart, would be.

It was of little consolation in the wake of the emotional upheaval he had gone through in such a short time. He suspected it was this compromised state which colored his memories of the meeting of another Jim Kirk, a _female_ Jim Kirk, for when he opened the pre-recorded transmission he sat staring for 3.4 minutes without a word registering because he was utterly distracted by the dulled light in her blue eyes and the dark circles under them, coupled by bruised and bloodied skin, dirty, messy hair and hoarse voice.

He remembered taking note of scrapes and bruises when he had encountered her in the cave, but it seemed to have faded in the light of finding who she was; the joy and wonder of looking past the apparent face of a stranger to _see_ and _feel_ James T. Kirk tinting his memories with a warm glow of his own emotions. It came as quite a shock, then, to be confronted with a stark reality where Jim was _hurt,_ and tired – exhausted even – but still smiling slightly from where he had paused the video. He took a moment to breathe before focusing and pressing to watch it from the beginning again.

Her tired voice washed over him again, but this time, he heard the words and committed them to memory with the same fervor he did anything concerning a J.T. Kirk.

_"Um…hi, old Spock! Ah, I can call you that, right? 'Cause I don't really know what else to call you…unless there's, like, a nickname I don't know about which is highly likely, since, you know, I haven't really known you, or, well, either of you, that long and I doubt I'd been told. But hey, who knows, maybe Uhura calls you Spocky or something? I don't know. Well, anyway, you're probably wondering what the hell I'm doing. Well, maybe not, you probably deduced it with your mad logical deducing skills, Mr. Holmes, but whatever._

_So…um…I just….I just wanted you to know what's up, yeah? Thrown into our Universe and all, sending me off on my own merry way and all that shit, you'd probably be interested in knowing how shit went down. Like, I know you, in this Universe anyway, are a stickler for details and all, so I just….thought you might want to hear it from someone who doesn't give a fuck about classified because hell, you kinda deserve that and everything beyond, you know?_

_So, anyway, I'm kinda on limited time here; I'm gonna have to split this up into different recordings then put them together to once piece before sending you it, 'cause I can only hide from Bones that long and I don't know if you're the same, but my Spock is like a fucking dog with a bone; he won't leave me alone and when he finds out I'm not in sickbay, I'm pretty sure that bastard is gonna fucking find me, even if I'm up so high in the Jefferies tubes it'd be impossible to catch me, but hey, I think you passed impossible a long time ago huh?_

_So yeah, first part then; we'll see how long that'll be before I'm interrupted and put into a coma by whatever poisonous hypo will be ready for me._

_Obviously, I made it onto the ship, and, I'm not in the brig, which is good. I did the compromise thing, and holy shit, yeah, that….will hopefully never be necessary again. Unless, you know, it's something other than murderous rage that makes you that fucking passionate 'cause…um, wow. Uuuh, I should probably try remembering to delete that later. _

_Anyway, I was made Captain, ordered the ship to chase after Nero – and don't get me started on that crazy fucker – and-shit, Spock? What the fuck? Hey, what are you doing? Get down! Get—aahh! Geez, let go of my fucking foot you crazy bastard! Yeah, yeah, I'm coming; asshole. Ouch!"_

That, apparently, was the end of the first part and left a lot to speculate, but he didn't have much time before the transmission jumped a bit and a less messy and bloodied Kirk appeared on the screen. After some more rambling, which like the previous bit was accompanied by a lot of hand gestures, animated expressions and flashing blue eyes, picked up somewhat where she had left off and she continued to 'fill him in' on what had occurred between the Enterprise and the Narada after he had sent her away. The 'clusterfuck of epic proportions', as she called it repeatedly, had occurred several days ago now but it was clear as the message wore on that she had taken the few moments she could spare between running a ship, healing from injuries, and dealing with a shipload of compromised Vulcans alongside a much younger and more jaded version of himself, who he knew to be at a rather difficult age, to 'fill him in' on not only the success of their plans but the aftermath.

It spread familiar warmth through his nervous system at her efforts, together with the awkward, almost shy manner she did it, despite the colorful language and apparent ease with which she spoke. She had not understood why she hadn't wanted to part with him on Delta Vega, just as she didn't understand her inclination to record him a message every day and finally sending it like a lengthy letter to an old friend far, far away. This did not mean, however, that _he _was unaware. It had long ago become apparent that _Spock and Jim_ were a constant; their minds and their souls were attuned in ways you could not describe with any words less than T'hy'la. How else did they always find each other? How else did so many factors work against them, only to have them thrown together again? How else did his bond quiver at the touch of this female Kirk, when his very male Kirk of his own Universe had been long lost?

He knew her katra recognized his; his who was bonded to her, although it was indirectly. It drew her to him as much as he was drawn to her, and so he played her carefully recorded transmission three times before turning the terminal off and settling in to meditate.

The _Enterprise_ was due in 25.3 hours, and there was a lot he had to see to.

_"I don't think my Spock's gonna stay in the Fleet…I asked him what he thought he'd do after this, you know, since they'd probably promote him to Captain and all, 'cause he's seriously badass like that once we got over the whole compromised-I-hate-your-guts thing. He just got all shifty and closed off and stuff, so I think he might've come up with some twisted kind of logic to screw up his future. Seriously, who wouldn't wanna be Captain? They're probably gonna kick me out or put me on a fucking year long probation or something for all the shit I've done, but Spock? He's been awesome. I don't understand, but, fuck, can you talk to him? Like, make sure he knows what he's doing? I don't think his dad's in the best mindset to give him advice in this shit, and he'd probably try to choke me again if I tried, so…hey! Spock! Fancy seeing you here! Huh? Oh, this? Um…it's my diary? Like…_

_ 'Dear Diary, today Uhura refused to conserve water by sharing a shower, _again.'

_See? No?_

'_Oh, and dear Diary; Bones refuses to relieve my sexual tension even though I bet hid dick is as magically healing as those hypos of his, only more pleasurable. And Spock's ears blush green, which is kinda adorable…' _

_Hey! What the fuck, hey! Stop! I'm not recording Starfleet's deepest darkest secrets to send them to the Klingons, you bastard! …what? Oh, yeah, it's still recording. Opps. Totally not deleting the magically healing dick though. And no, totally not telling who I'm sending this to. Oh? Well, _make me.

_Oh, shit!"_

Indeed, he had quite a lot to deal with when the hurricane that was Jim Kirk arrived.

* * *

**A/N: **Please review! :D


	18. Sanity, part 1

**Pairing: **Kirk/Spock

**Ratings: **from K to M, it depends on the drabble/story

**Genres: **AU/AR, romance, sci-fi, drama, humour, family, friendship, hurt/comfort, angst

**Notes: **This is a collection of drabbles/short stories with the main focus on K/S. I will be experimenting with genderbending, using always a girl!Kirk and possibly always a girl!Spock, or a actual genderbending; male-gone-female. It's different from story to story.

**A general warning for the whole story is that English is not my first language, so there will be typos and grammar errors. I apologize. Also, I don't own Star Trek, nor do I make any profit off of this. It's all for fun and creativity.**

* * *

**A/N: **I...honestly don't know what this is. A wild plot bunny Alice style. So, um, beware, madness ahead? XD

Enjoy!

* * *

**Sanity, part 1**

_In a mad world only the mad are sane._**  
**Akira Kurosawa (1910 - 1998)

* * *

_He was dying._

_Maybe that was what colored his view a terribly bleak copper; the familiar sands muted to a dull shimmer and the intense heat oppressive rather than soothing. The air was dense with dust and unforgivable dryness, which sucked what little moisture he had directly through his skin with the violent winds of an upcoming storm. He should not be here, outside, on the balcony. Not only because it was not allowed for patients, but it simply was not logical to aggravate his condition, and cause further discomfort._

_It was not logical, but he was dying, and lately he had come to wonder what logic mattered in the face of this. Besides, he had not been able to make his own choices since institutionalized here; the healers monitoring his every step, his every breath, as they injected him with the newest mutated chemicals, and so however small and illogical this might be, he allowed himself to feel the satisfaction of having chosen this discomfort, having controlled the events which led to this dull pain enclosing him in a dust of sand._

_Closing his eyes, S'chn T'gai Spock allowed himself to remember a time when the sands glowed red and the heat had set him at ease._

* * *

James Kirk – for the heck of it _Charlie_ for now – didn't really know what he was doing here. Well, sure he did; he'd been there when his mother signed the papers, strapped to the bed and unable to do much about it. So he knew why the shuttle was taking him through Vulcan's capital, and why it was heading straight for their impressive medical and research facilities. He just wasn't sure why _he_ was on this shuttle. The doctors had already given up; he had his medicine and why couldn't they just leave him alone? He never caused any harm to anyone but himself then, and that was actually a rather sweet deal. Because honestly, he'd rather wake up on the bathroom floor covered in cuts and bruises than having some telepathic condescending assholes pick at his brain.

"Goddamn space elves and their freaky biology; I swear, the Creator was fucking hungover when he made these bloody designs!"

Ah, well, at least he wouldn't be the only human on this little trip. Accompanying him on the shuttle from Starfleet medical was a Doctor Leonard McCoy; famed surgeon and quite the pioneer in the medical research field of the Federation presently. He was all Southern charm; old fashioned, a real sawbones.

"Bones, you've been over those notes 10 times already; didn't you say you wouldn't be able to get any new information until we arrive?"

Innovative, creative, dedicated to his task.

"Shut up _Charlie_; I'm working! Goddammit. And it's _Doctor McCoy_ for you, punk."

One of the best of human doctors.

"Riiight."

And so, perhaps one of the obvious reasons an Ambassador might request his skills in saving his son. Not that Jim's father was an Ambassador, no, Jim's dad was long dead and there was nothing physically wrong with him. Bones was no specialized psychiatrist.

No, the Ambassador in question was Vulcan, and one might think the fancy institution his beloved offspring was currently confined to would be better off without a doctor and his team specialized in _human_ biology, when the best Vulcan healers were already appointed the case.

The son, however, had a human mother.

A hybrid, a being of two worlds; an endless list of possibilities of genetic combinations which might prove significant in saving his life. Jim couldn't blame them for calling in "the best" of those two worlds.

However, as for what _he_ was doing here…well, apparently the frequency of his psychotic attacks were increasing rapidly and there was nothing they could do for him on Earth. He was 17, almost 18, but declared unfit to decide his treatment himself, which left Winona Kirk. What did Winona do when faced with a situation she couldn't quite handle, like when he uncovered his father's old uniform and played dress up? She turned to space. What better to treat matter of the brain with than telepathy, a tool directly wired to it in ways no modern technology had yet managed? And so, those papers had been signed, and Jim had an episode after the doctors told him he was being shipped off world _again_. To Vulcan. Desert planet; miles of dry, dead earth. _He didn't want to go back to that place._

But Vulcan was different, Mrs. Sandqvist had assured him, the latest in his line of shrinks. Well, screw you, he'd wanted to say, but the meds were doing their job subduing him and his rather hot temper (he felt rather listless; the opposite of the spectrum. Always extremes, never a middle ground). And so…here he was. A lone patient among a team of esteemed Starfleet doctors assigned to the offspring of some hot-shot Vulcan.

He wondered if they were gonna spare at least a nurse for him, you know, for some human contact. There was a rather delicious looking blonde supplying Bones with coffee every now and then. Chapel, he thinks.

"I'm bored," he announced as the blonde moved away for the fourth time. God, these shuttles took _forever_. Bones looked up with a frown, eying him and taking in the restrains with the same narrowed look he'd worn when he'd boarded.

"Well, suck it up. I'm not gonna entertain you."

And he was back to his notes again.

Well, fuck.

…Jim was nothing if not creative, however.

* * *

"I told you I was bored! You can't-ouch, dammit!" Jim squirmed, wishing his hands were free again so he could rub his tender neck. The familiar mist of medical sedation was beginning to work its way through his system already, and he glared at the nurses holding him down before narrowing in on Bones – scratch that – _McCoy._ He didn't deserve any awesome pet names anymore.

"I can and I will, dammit. What the hell made you think breaking out of your restraints was a good idea? Wait, no, don't answer that. Shit. Would anyone care to explain why we have fucking Houdini as a patient and no goddamn security officers around?"

Houdini. Huh. Yeah, well, he still didn't deserve any pet names. _Doctors._ Geez.

And before he could really start protesting, there was the familiar fading of consciousness that snuck up on him and he resolved to deal with it later. When he was, you know, _not_ in a drug-induced coma. Dammit.

* * *

When Jim woke, there were two things that registered. One; he was awake. Two; _fuck_ it was hot. Time for a third revelation, he decided, and carefully opened his eyes. A ceiling of some kind of muted red sandstone greeted him and he blinked in confusion, seeking clue number four by titling his head to the side and take in the rest of his surroundings.

So. He was lying down, obviously. Restrained for the time being. Although not the familiar whites he was used to, the room he occupied was clearly of the medical variety. Because a) he was a patient and b) there were those seemingly universally uncomfortable hospital beds lined neatly on either side of him. They were all empty though, or they appeared to be anyway, as only a few were shielded by screens but no movements could be detected; not even breathing. He didn't felt up to speculate about that, since the unusual lack of beeping finally caught his attention as he'd listened for other occupants. Usually, when he found himself in this position, there was some medical machinery keeping track of his condition. Curious, he titled his head back and looked up.

Huh. Unfamiliar screens adorned the wall with delicate symbols which looked like some kind of hygrographs, complete with complex diagrams of various shapes. Well. Perhaps there were some similarities, he supposed. But still; no sound. No buzz. He didn't know if it was a relief, or if it was just unsettling.

He decided, for the moment, that it was rather unsettling. Alone, nothing but his breathing and the rustle of too-crisp sheets made a sound. There was nothing to indicate any activity behind the doors at the opposite of the room, nor any windows for the outside world. He felt a familiar tug of anxiety and hurriedly took a deep breath, forcing his thoughts _away_ for silence and isolation and the uncertainly of _when were they coming for him what did they want where could he go is there a way out of here oh fuck the screams but there wasn't any sound that bastard knew he must know silence -_

"-I'm Henry the eight I am, Henry the eight I am, I am, I got married to the widow next door, she's been married seven times before, and everyone was an Henry, she wouldn't have a Willie or a Sam, I'm her eight old man, I'm Henry, Henry the eight I am! Second verse, same as the first!" he sang, loud enough to drown out the memories and the voices in his head. There was a note of hysteria in his voice, but as the song wore on with its never-ending lyrics, he allowed himself to get lost in it and wavered in places as laughter threatened to spill out. He wondered how many verses he could go through before someone came to check on him, and determinedly renewed his efforts with a wide grin. If the Vulcans were going to poke his brain, he'd make it as difficult as possible.

That's just how he rolled.

"You are on your fifteenth verse of that song, and there does not appear to be any changes apart from the number of verses. Is there an end, or are you intent on continuing until your vocals chords are no longer able to produce any sound? If that is the case, I ask that you cease."

Jim choked on his _widow next door_ and jerked up in response to the unexpected interruption. Well, he _tried_ to jerk up, but all he managed was to buck against the restraints and whip his head around towards to unfamiliar voice. A head of dark, silky hair had poked out from behind one of the screened beds further down the room; eyes dark, slanted eyebrows drawn, pale cheeks slightly green and lips pressed together in a line of frustration.

Huh. Apparently, he shared the nuthouse with a Vulcan.

Awesome.

He figured it was the shock and relief at not being alone which prevented another panic attack from wracking his system.

"What? Not a fan of music? I'm Percival by the way. Who're you?"

And then there was this thing with _lying. _It wasn't really _conscious;_ they just…slipped out, the lies.

"Yet the song would indicate that you are Henry VIII. You seemed quite insistent on stating this fact."

A Vulcan with humor? Yeah, Jim could totally get down with that.

"Nope! It's Dave! But you still haven't told me your name, man!"

Stiff sheets rustled as the Vulcan rearranged himself and opened the dividing screen further, revealing more of himself where he sat Indian style at the foot of his bed. He titled his head with a confused frown, and Jim wondered if he'd have to just make up a name for the guy as the silence stretched for a few moments.

"You stated your name was Percival, yet you claim it is Dave."

Well, damn, there was that thing about lies again. Maybe he should settle for Charlie again?

"I like a little bit of variety in my life. So, come on, I've given you _two_ names, but you haven't even given me _one!"_

At this, the Vulcan straightened and regarded him with narrowed eyes. "My name is Spock."

"Not, like, Francis or something?"

"…no. I stated my name as Spock. It is as it is."

"…I think still think something like Myron would suit you."

"…illogical."

Jim laughed. _Really?_

"As if logic has any place around here, Francis Myron Spock. _We're all mad here._"

* * *

**A/N: **Please review! :D


	19. Cadet with Dubious Morals

**Pairing: **Kirk/Spock

**Ratings: **from K to M, it depends on the drabble/story

**Genres: **AU/AR, romance, sci-fi, drama, humour, family, friendship, hurt/comfort, angst

**Notes: **This is a collection of drabbles/short stories with the main focus on K/S. I will be experimenting with genderbending, using always a girl!Kirk and possibly always a girl!Spock, or a actual genderbending; male-gone-female. It's different from story to story.

**A general warning for the whole story is that English is not my first language, so there will be typos and grammar errors. I apologize. Also, I don't own Star Trek, nor do I make any profit off of this. It's all for fun and creativity.**

* * *

**A/N: **This...was for the lulz. It's a bit OOC and not very believable, but I had fun writing it.

Enjoy!

* * *

**(How Spock met Jim) Cadet with Dubious Morals**

Spock stared at his PADD for an additional 1.2 minutes before surveying the occupants of the public shuttle a second time. Illogical, since upon his first thorough observation he had not encountered anything suspicious, but he had been unable to curb the initial reaction of startled _confounded _curiosity.

There, on his 2.3 months old PADD, on which he had been pursuing the latest science articles published in his preferred prescribed journal up until 3.1 minutes ago, a separate message box was opened with the neat computerized curves of Standard's letters bidding him a _good morning_ in a most illogical manner. He knew these public transportations utilized a wireless communication system to which you could log on, and proceed to contact anyone else operating the system within the shuttle. Which was precisely why he had blocked the system from accessing his own PADD, for he had no desire to converse with anyone during this unfortunate stretch of time he spent on transportation such as this; vocally, telepathically or by written messages.

And yet, there is was.

**_Good morning sunshine!_**

Since observation had resulted in no further answers to the questions this provoked, Spock then proceeded to back-track the signal in order to locate the device which had obviously hacked his own.

**_Not gonna work, coz I'm too awesome._**

Spock frowned at the interruption, the lines of codes rendered useless as they encountered a line of corrupt numbers. Apparently this person did not want to be found. Perhaps another tactic then.

_Who are you, and for what purpose have you hacked my PADD's security system?_

He did not bother with pleasantries, for the situation did not warrant it, and he was…slightly irked. Unnerved. He had files on this PADD which should not be seen by anyone with a rank less than Commander, much less anyone outside of Starfleet. They may not be of a significant threat to security or Starfleet in general, but to have someone access it so seemingly effortlessly was…unnerving.

He put in another code as he finished his query. The reply did not take long.

**_I'm a bored person on a crappy shuttle, with too much time on my hands, and an interesting person within sight. You can't blame me for wanting to entertain myself._**

Raising a brow, Spock entered the last bit of code and tried again, only to have the screen beep and flash red for 1.3 seconds. No results.

_That is illogical. There are exactly 13 people utilizing this service quite willingly, as opposed to myself. I ask again; why have you hacked my system? How did you do it?_

This time, a rather crudely drawn figure of some kind appeared on his screen, before followed by a reply. He stared at the uneven lines, wondering what it was supposed to look like. A simplified face, as he had seen his mother draw, with dots as eyes and a curved line as mouth. Smiling.

**_You're much more interesting than anyone of those 13 could ever hope to be. As for who I am…why don't you try to find out?_**

That had been precisely what he had been doing, but as the transport slowed and the press of people made to get off, Spock was unable to reply before the line of unexpected communication was broken.

* * *

**_You've changed PADD. Afraid I'll look at your porn and read your diary?_**

It had been illogical to expect the stranger would find him once again, but Spock had, and although he had been unsure if it would be necessary to switch to a new PADD that held no more files than those necessary for his short daily trip he was now pleased he had done so.

_That is illogical; I am not in possession of either of those. However, it was a necessary precaution, considering the documentation of sensitive files I had stored on the device. I would not risk them being exposed._

**_Psh, I can get a hold of that any time I wanted, with or without your PADD hooked online._**

Spock frowned.

_You are Starfleet?_

**_Perhaps._**

**_Or I might just be a really awesome hacker. I'd say the latter is pretty conceivable. Yeah?_**

_Or both._

**_Or both._**

* * *

It continued for days. Not necessary every day; Spock was looking for patterns in how often and at what times he was contacted but it was always on the same shuttle. Spock had several theories, and even as he discarded some, new ones presented themselves. The unknown person engaging him in idle, frustrating but surprisingly fascinating communication was offering him little to no information which could aid him in narrowing down the possibilities.

When the topic of the shuttle's mechanics and finer operations were broached, he thought the person might be a mechanic. Then he quoted Shakespeare, and further on, several Terran and extraterrestrial classics – some Vulcan, he'd noted with surprise – which would suggest literature to be of interest. Then there was physics, and mathematics, and somehow Spock felt more intellectually stimulated than he did conversing with his colleagues.

**_Well, this is my stop. See you around, sexy._**

It was the first time there had been any indication as to where the person might be going, and the fact that Spock was already preparing to get off himself at the usual station provoked a rather illogical physical response of his heart skipping a beat.

Looking around, he searched for someone, anyone, engaged with a communication device; PADD or otherwise. He saw none. Against the press of bodies, he quickly typed a message.

_You are a cadet._

He was in a sea of red, after all. They were by the stop closest to the Academy.

**_Or I'm messing with you, and leading you off your trail. I think I like your guess of 'Professor' better. But good guess! You're improving._**

_You want me to find out who you are. Yet you will not tell me. Why? Where are you? What do you look like?_

He got no response, and the crowd of cadets was already noisily making their way through the gates into the Academy. It wasn't until he was taking his lunch, going through the afternoon classes' notes one final time, that these strange series of events took another step in whatever direction it was headed, and his PADD flashed with an unexpected, but now familiar, message.

**_I'm your negative to the positive, as you're the positive to my negative._**

**_I'm a cadet._**

* * *

Opposites; that was all it could mean. He'd spent the time he was supposed to be meditating thinking about it, having doomed the usual activity impossible in his current state of mind.

What was his opposite? The first one would indeed be cadet, as he was an instructor. It would also be someone who appeared illogical, he gathered. If it had been a response to his inquiry of physical features, it would be someone shorter, of fair coloring. Perhaps blonde hair and blue eyes. Maybe green. Could it be a female? Pink complexion instead of green. Cool skin.

The person had become human in his mind before he could consider the illogic of simply assuming such a thing.

* * *

_What should I call you?_

It was the 7th time he had posed this question, although this time, he had opted to word it…differently. He noted it was more efficient than _"State your name"_ as his PADD beeped softly with an incoming message.

**_You may call me J.T., Mr. Spock._**

He was the only Vulcan in Starfleet, and so it should not provoke any reaction at all that this person already knew his name. Yet…he swallowed, and wondered why this _J.T._ had not addressed him by his name prior to this. It would certainly have been more logical than _sunshine, sexy, handsome_ and any other highly subjective adjective that had been used.

_The list of cadets with the initials J.T. is impressively long._

**_You'll just have to narrow it down then, won't you?_**

_Indeed._

**_But who said that was my full set of initials?_**

Spock fought the urge to toss the PADD aside in frustration and decided it would be beneficial for a short period of meditation before he left for his next lecture.

* * *

_"Narrow it down"_, J.T. had asked him to, and he had done so, using as basis their previous conversations, which he had all saved on a separate chip safely put away in one of the drawers in his quarters. It "narrowed it down" to a cadet taking advanced computer programming; most likely he or she was invested in tactical as well, given J.T.'s impassioned discussion on strategies and the fascinating chess games they had shared online. More accurate than that, Spock could not…._guess._ The cadet was proficient in such a wide variety of subjects it would be impossible to form their study plan with the data he currently possessed.

And so he set his computer on scanning the system for a cadet with initials including J and T (it had been "hinted" that these were not the only ones, so he made for it to include other possibilities as well) with above average grades, taking tactical and computing sciences, with a few unlikely species excluded. The resulting list was shorter, more manageable, but he expected it would take 3.2 months to arrive at a viable answer without any further data.

Not ideal, but agreeable. It would seem he would just have to collect more data, and continue this search, if only to confront the cadet properly on Starfleet conduct and illegal hacking.

* * *

**_So…I'm bored. Entertain me._**

_I do not have the time to engage you. Might I suggest you turn your attention to your studies, or friends, if you possess such social ties?_

**_Hey! Play nice! That's not nice… And yes, I do have friends, but he's kicked me out of our room. Turning his attention to his studies. I'd be very attentive with Xenobiology too you know. If I took it, would you give me…private lessons, Professor?_**

_As I do not possess a degree in anything medical, and only took the necessary courses on Xenobiology, there is no logical reason for me to consider private tutoring, Cadet. If you are interested I suggest you apply for the course next semester and seek out the proper individuals for tutoring. Such as your friend, perhaps._

**_God, I love it when you talk-well, write, really-like that. But seriously, there's a very logical reason for private tutoring involving you and me. Let me in your office and I'll show you._**

_It would seem likely that you know where my office is located, Cadet. You may present this "logical reason" by reporting to it during my office hours._

**_Oh, I will, once you figure out what I really meant by all that. Because you don't know, you're just trying to trick me into revealing myself._**

_Indeed. I am to assume you will reveal yourself once I have discerned the subtext of our conversation?_

**_Well, that's up to you, Commander._**

**_Also, "I do not have the time to engage you"? Bull. You just "engaged" me. Later, handsome!_**

"….." Spock stared at the screen, feeling his left brow twitch but ignoring it in favor of taking a 1.3 deeper breath, exhaling slowly.

J.T. was roomed with a cadet studying Xenobiology, and did not take the course personally. He made a mental note to add these criteria in his computer's scanning program at a later date. First, this experiment had been neglected 4.5 minutes too long (it had required repose for 20.3 minutes during which he had intended to wait, but Cadet J.T. had interrupted 2.1 minutes into this).

Illogical.

* * *

Spock considered the file before him. 22 years old, human male. Repeat offender previous to Starfleet, yet his aptitude tests were abnormally high. Enrolled in the Command track, the fast program reduced from 4 to 3 years, designed by Spock himself for Cadets with higher than normal intellectual needs. Fascinating. Even more so with the suspicious amount of sealed or missing files in the Cadet's history, beginning with his birth.

Stardate 2233, there was a lightning storm in space resulting in the starship _USS Kelvin _meeting its violent end against an impossibly advanced Romulan vessel. The sacrifice of Acting Captain George S. Kirk saved 800 people, among those, his wife Lieutenant-Commander Winona Kirk and…their son, James T. Kirk.

J.T.K.

It was a logical conclusion to make. Cadet Kirk would be skilled enough to hack a computer system, and had the dubious morals to conduct such a thing as well. His aptitude tests reflected the wide breath of knowledge revealed in their conversations, and the Cadet's picture showed a young man with the telltale human pink complexion, dark-blonde hair and intense blue eyes. Illogically attractive and compelling; it was only a picture.

In many ways this Cadet was _the negative to his positive, and the positive to his negative._

_You are James T. Kirk._

It was not a question. He did not receive an answer, even after 29.4 hours, which was 3.2 hours past the longest pause between messages so far.

_After researching the illogical practice of idioms in Human conversation, I have discerned that you wish to engage in sexual intercourse with me._

He waited.

**_And if I did, Commander?_**

_It is against regulation._

**_That wasn't a "no"._**

It was not.

* * *

It was illogical to experience such anticipation, when he should merely be pleased he finally had all the data needed to confront the Cadet on his conduct. He should be visiting his dorm with the threat of brining him up on charges, and yet…

And yet the Cadet had not hacked onto any Starfleet computers, to his knowledge, only his private PADDs, and he had not accessed any files, merely established a link of communication that would have been available to anyone possessing his private contact information. His Academic records were also very…promising. Spock did not doubt there were a fairly large amount of Cadets who had previous records on less than admirable conduct prior to Starfleet, and the fact that Cadet Kirk had been accepted to the Academy showed his records were not of any special concern.

There was also the fact that between the bouts of illogical conversations riddled with idioms and subtext he had no way of clearly understanding, their discussions had been…compelling; fascinating. _Engaging._

Perhaps he was trying to justify the undeniable interest he had developed for this Cadet from initial contact to finding his true identity.

Perhaps.

There was a knock on his door, and Spock looked up from the lesson plans he was organizing. "Come."

The door flung open with unconcealed enthusiasm and he was met with the sight of a grinning cadet; intense blue eyes catching the light from his windows.

"I'm here for my private lesson, Professor!"

"Indeed. Perhaps one in manners would be suitable, Cadet Kirk."

Silently pleased at the illogically attractive laugh that escaped pink lips, Spock watched with an unfamiliar kind of anticipation as the door closed behind a slender body clad in Cadet-red.

"Call me Jim, gorgeous."

* * *

**A/N: **Please review! :D


End file.
